Coming Home
by breizhbit
Summary: After restoring Al's body, the Elrics return to the place they call home. His personal quest may have ended, but history is far from through with the Fullmetal Alchemist. Postmangaverse with a lil' bit of EdxWin and RoyxRiza!
1. Chapter 1

Characters are not mine and that is sad.

1. Home is the Place You Go When You Want Someone to Say "Yay"

Edward Elric glared at his reflection in the window of the train car and nervously flattened his unruly golden bangs with his right hand, pausing afterward to reflect on the automail that still served him. In a way he wasn't sorry that he hadn't recovered his final limb--he knew he'd have missed the automail. Besides being the inspiration for his title, it was certainly useful. The ability to transmute a blade or other weapon from his arm was a trademark technique that would be hard to learn to do without. Or at least that's what he told himself, not wanting to speculate on any other reasons for the deep emotional attachment he felt for the metal limb skillfully crafted by his childhood friend and mechanic.

Having his left leg back was a gift that Edward honestly hadn't dared to hope for. After coming to the realization that the only responsible way that he could get Al's body back was by sacrificing his life, even the simple act of drawing breath was something he was immeasurably grateful for. Though he was committed to living to contribute to the end of Father and his creatures, Ed had grown so used to wondering if he were performing everyday tasks for the last time that he felt oddly removed from the world around him. He hadn't yet come back down to earth though both his quest to end the terror of the homunculi and to regain his brother's body were ended.

Van Hoenheim showing up during the last battle to use his power to help defeat Father and get Al's body back had come as a complete surprise. Even after learning the truth about his father's origins from Izumi, Ed had never in a million years thought that that old bastard would lift a finger to help him or Al. Instead, Hoenheim had willingly given up immortality to return his sons to their bodies. While Al, returning to his ten year old body, had rushed to accept Hoenheim's directions at the doors, Ed had had more trouble and had only been able to receive his leg before they had run out of time. Truth or God or whatever sure was a stingy bastard. He was getting half the souls in Xerxes from this deal, and he still rushed them out of there in order to hold onto one measly limb.

Edward was very uncomfortable with the way things had turned out--he hated the thought of owing Van Hoenheim anything and had felt belittled when the older man had laughed at his grumbled thanks and pointed out that as a rather terrible father, it really was the least he could do. It didn't help matters that Al had immediately latched onto his father adoringly, his ten year old self rejoicing at finding a parent after the still-fresh grief over his mother's death. Because he returned to a younger mind and body, Al was unable to remember the past five years when his brother had filled all familial roles for him. Embarrassed and a little disappointed to have lost his companion of the last five years, Ed had not enlightened him.

And so the three were approaching the Reisembol station, Al excitedly recounting to Hoenheim his and Ed's adventures training with Izumi after having failed to drag out of Ed the story of his resurrection. Edward sat moodily staring out of the window, every so often guiltily glancing at Al's still emaciated figure. Even after suspecting that he was sustaining both of their bodies, Edward still hadn't fully understood the toll this had taken on the chubby-cheeked figure of his younger brother. If only he could have stomached that stupid milk! What a terrible brother he was! It killed him to think about the ravenous way Al had attacked the mediocre food at the inn in Central that they had stopped off at after the confrontation with Truth.

Despite obviously needing rest and nourishment, Al insisted on returning immediately to the place he thought of as home. Ed still had not had the heart to inform Al that their house was no longer standing, and it seemed Hoenheim hadn't either.

"Papa, Brother! Let's go home tomorrow," Al said as they finished their meal. "I can't wait to see Granny and Winry and show them how I'm back!"

"Sure, little brother," answered Ed. "Winry and Granny Pinako will be thrilled to see you back in your body. God knows they deserve some good news after all they've put up with over the past few years."

Al had latched onto the fact that time had passed since he had last been aware of the world with his mind--that was obvious from the changes in his older brother, whose unimpressive stature was still well above Al's ten year old height. However, he still hadn't quite grasped the full implications of the fact that his soul had been present this whole time in another form, though somehow hearing it didn't surprise him. He felt different, and seemed to have a different perspective on the world than he remembered having.

"I suppose you're coming too?" Ed asked Hoenheim, casting his eyes away from the large figure who was a bit startled to be addressed by his eldest son without an insult thrown into the question.

Van Hoenheim started to shake his head but this was met with a whimpering sound from his younger son. "Papa...?" Al looked up at him with huge eyes.

Edward got up from the table and began to walk toward the stairs to their room. He turned and said,

"Al wants you to, so you'd better not let him down, you miserable excuse for a father. Just charge the meal to the room, I'll have them put it on my expense account when we check out tomorrow."

With that, Ed raced to get ready for bed so he could pretend to be snoring by the time his father and brother came up for the night.

Since events had unfolded so quickly, no one had had time to inform Winry or Pinako of the Elrics' impending arrival. Moving toward the door, Edward half-hoped that Winry would be back in Rush Valley by now and that he could delay their reunion until he'd worked through some of the stuff that had happened, or at least had gotten rid of the old man. On the other hand, having Winry present would make things go a lot more smoothly with Al and Hoenheim, and she would probably fend off some of Granny's more pointed questions.

Van Hoenheim and Edward each carried a small suitcase, but since that was their only luggage, they were soon off the train and out of the station. Before turning off the main street however, Edward dumped his suitcase on the side of the road saying,

"Hold on, there's something I have to get."

"Brother, what are you--?" Al called after him, surprised by seeing his brother approach a fruit vendor.

"Hey Al--how many apples do you need to make a pie anyway?"

The younger Elric and Van Hoenheim looked at each other in confusion and shrugged. Pie-making was not a skill usually required of alchemists. Sensing an opportunity, the vendor guided Edward to the best pie-making apples which so happened to be the most expensive variety, and loaded him down with enough shiny red apples for two or three pies, remarking that it wouldn't do to run out.

Van Hoenheim raised his eyebrows at the large brown bag overflowing with apples and wordlessly picked up Edward's discarded suitcase. Ed scowled at him, but couldn't keep the expression in place when he looked down to see his younger brother looking between the two and beaming. Since they had not had time to cut Al's hair that morning, Ed had wordlessly braided it in his own style before heading out the door. As the three of them trekked towards the Rockbell house in long dark coats and golden hair, they looked like three versions of the same person caught at different stages of life.

Sooner than Edward was prepared for, Al was running up the steps to the house, trying to pet Den, hurry forward, and call for Winry and Granny at the same time. Ed started to chuckle despite himself but quickly bit his expression back into a scowl as Hoenheim's quick smile caught his eye.

"Al, they may not be home, or they may have customers," Ed warned.

However, the door was quickly opened by Pinako who stood stunned, enveloped in Al's enthusiastic hug for a moment before screaming into the house,

"Winry! Get out here right this moment!"

Upon coming closer, Ed could see the tears in the old lady's eyes as she looked over the beaming boy who she considered as close as a grandchild. She touched his gaunt face as if to convince herself Alphonse was really in front of her.

"You did it child, you're really back," she murmured, holding him tight. Glancing around him she spied Edward and Hoenheim, standing awkwardly a few paces apart on the lawn. Still clutching Al, she addressed them seriously,

"Thank you. I don't know how you did it and I'm not sure I want to know, but thank you both for putting him back together."

Both Ed and Hoenheim blushed, unsure how to respond. They were saved from having to say a word by the appearance of Winry from inside the house. Her blonde hair was piled carelessly on top of her head and her beige coveralls were open to the waist, long sleeves tied around her middle. Even though the spring air was cool she was wearing a small black tube top. She had clearly emerged from the workshop, as she was wiping the grease off her hands with a rag.

"Geez Granny, I was in the middle of sensitive stuff," she said, before noticing the thin boy before her. She stopped short when she saw him, her mouth forming a perfect o, and her large blue eyes widening as they questioned her grandmother. Seeing the old lady nod excitedly, Winry let out a whoop of joy and crushed Al to her, dropping the rag to the floor. The boy looked a bit startled at first by the pretty young lady whose arms were around him. He had been expecting to see his friend Winry, the girl who he had played with every day of his childhood. So many things had changed.

"W-Winry?" he said, looking up at her in confusion. Winry stepped back, holding Al at arm's length as she took in his appearance critically. Before she could say anything that might confuse Al further, Ed took a few steps forward and said in a low voice,

"His mind and body are still ten, so he doesn't remember anything about the last five years."

At this Winry looked a bit sad, but pressed Al against her once again and whispered,

"I'm so glad to have you back Al, whatever your age."

Winry took a deep breath, exhaled, and pulled back from the boy. She turned her head toward Ed, eyes unreadable and took a step to the edge of the faded white porch. Edward nervously met her gaze, expecting some kind of scene (possibly involving wrenches and pain,) but was totally unprepared when Winry launched herself off the porch and into his arms, causing him to drop the sack of apples and stagger back a bit to support her weight. Flustered and rapidly reddening, Ed tentatively put his left arm around her, gingerly patting her back as she attempted to squeeze the life out of him. As abruptly as she'd started, Winry backed off and yelled shrilly,

"EDWARD ELRIC! IF YOU EVER SCARE ME LIKE THAT AGAIN I WILL KILL YOU! WHAT WERE YOU THINKING TRICKING ME INTO COMING BACK HERE AND THEN SNEAKING OFF TO PUT YOURSELF IN _MORE_ DANGER!?"

As Winry began to punctuate her words with punches to his gut, Edward began to stammer,

"S-sorry Winry, I couldn't just leave them, I mean--"

As this failed to produce the desired effect, and Edward grew more and more aware of the amused looks of Granny Pinako and Van Hoenhheim, he changed tactics,

"Hey Winry, look at Al! He's back!"

This distraction seemed to do the trick as Winry's fists ceased pummeling him and stilled to clutch at his white shirt though his unbuttoned jacket. She looked up at him with shining eyes.

"Yeah, you did it Ed. You promised, so I aways knew you would. And see!" she sniffed, "I really am crying tears of joy!"

She once again threw her arms around the embarrassed alchemist, only to draw back again when she realized that one of the arms she held was still automail.

"You've still got it, huh? I guess I should be flattered, you couldn't give up my masterpieces after all." She smiled weakly.

Van Hoenheim coughed and stepped towards his clearly uncomfortable son and the beautiful girl who was apparently trying to weld herself to his chest. He smiled apologetically at her, realizing that she more than anyone probably wanted to see his eldest son emerge whole from this ordeal.

"I'm sorry Winry-chan. I'm afraid it's my fault that Edward didn't regain his arm as he intended to. You see, after taking care of Al there was only time for me to bring back his missing leg before the reaction ended, and at this point we don't have much left to exchange."

Winry looked at Hoenheim carefully as he delivered his apology, but was beaming at him by the end.

"You sound just like Ed! Always feeling guilty about not doing more to help someone else. So he got his leg back? That's great! It was way more annoying to adjust than his arm. You wouldn't think it to look at him, but he has grown a lot in the past five years."

This earned a sharp "Hey!" from Edward, but before he could get too indignant, Winry lurched forward and impulsively hugged Hoenheim.

"Thank you," she said, "Thank you so much for helping Ed and Al! It means so much to me to see them both alive and home. And this automail doesn't even seem too banged up for once!" Winry exclaimed while pushing up Edward's sleeve to inspect the automail with a professional eye.

"Well," sighed Pinako before Winry could become too involved in scrutinizing Ed's care of her automail, "Let's get inside. This one here sure looks like he could use a few good meals. You can take the bags up to the first bedroom at the top of the stairs, Hoenheim."

Gathering up the two suitcases, Hoenheim risked a good-natured smirk at his eldest son who still seemed highly uncomfortable with the whole scene and followed Pinako and Al into the house. It was a strange feeling for him to be included in something like this, but Pinako and Winry's obvious acceptance of his presence gave him a bit of hope that he could someday become comfortable with living a normal human life. Al's return to a younger more accepting state seemed like a perfect chance to try to establish a relationship, and knowing that he wouldn't get another try, Hoenheim wanted to seize the opportunity. Edward, it seemed, would be a bit more difficult to relate to. On top of the highly traumatic events of the past few years, he was just so stubborn, so arrogant, so much like himself when he was young...

Edward tried and failed to disentangle his right arm from Winry's grasp, and had to stoop awkwardly to pick up the bag of apples at his feet with his left hand. Winry let go once she saw what he was doing, and reached down to pick up a few apples that had rolled away after her dramatic pounce onto Edward. Realizing what they were for, Winry smiled.

"I thought Al couldn't remember the last five years?"

"Yeah well, he may not remember saying so, but I remember him telling me that you promised to bake him apple pie from that recipe Gracia gave you as soon as he got his body back. What, you don't want to? Don't look at me like that, you promised!"

Edward pouted a little at Winry's serious expression, but soon became concerned as she held his gaze firmly.

"Edward, you may hate me saying so, but you are the sweetest brother--no, sweetest person--I have ever met. And I am so incredibly happy that you are home."

Though he was squirming under her intense speech and subsequent return to crushing herself into him, Edward couldn't help but allow himself a small smile. Maybe there was a happy ending for him after all.

As they climbed the porch steps and entered the house, Winry asked,

"So Ed, since you don't need it anymore, what happened to my automail leg? You didn't lose it did you? DID YOU? You did! You just left my masterpiece somewhere to rust! Every mechanic in Rush Valley agreed that that leg was a work of art!--Hey Al do you see my wrench in there?--I can't believe you you ungrateful shrimp!"

"Hey! Who are you calling a SHRIMP automail freak!" he screamed as he rushed ahead of her to avoid her blows.

It was good to be home.

Please forgive my spellings of proper nouns--I have seen many variations and have picked ones I like from the translations I've seen.

This is my first post on FF so please proceed to shower me with constructive criticism! I have been thinking about treating this as a prologue to a longer story about Ed settling into life post-quest, but I wanted to get something up before I get too fancy with the chapters and the plots.


	2. Chapter 2

I don't own FMA.

Chapter 2

In the days following the arrival of the Elric brothers and their father, word got out that some of those responsible for the recent overthrow of Fuhrer Bradley's regime were staying with the Rockbells. Though most regular Rockbell Automail customers had encountered the Fullmetal Alchemist enough in the past to want to avoid him if at all possible, curiosity about this new turn of events drove many to try to schedule their periodic maintenance early, or get an appointment to have a minor problem looked at in hopes of gaining some firsthand news. As a result, Winry and Pinako were flooded with jobs--mainly of the annoying routine kind--and put Al to work scheduling appointments and organizing walk-ins. Hoenheim offered to help with any errands that came up, but was doubtful that he could be of much use dealing with the technical aspects of automail.

Most customers left extremely disappointed after receiving excellent professional care and very little in the way of gossip. Very few of them even caught a glimpse of the elusive Fullmetal Alchemist, who remained conspicuously absent during business hours.

After two hectic weeks passed in this manner, a chance occurrence on the Rockbell's porch caused a whole new wave of interest. A farmer who had come on the pretext of having heard "something rattling around" in his automail leg had brought with him his small daughter. The girl sat on the wide porch, wheezing loudly with every breath. Her small hands clutched a toy bunny to her chest as she struggled to maintain an even breathing pattern. Hoenheim was carrying a crate of supplies from the local hardware store up to the house as he heard an older woman with an automail hand remarking in hushed tones to her son,

"Poor thing. Once they have the breathing trouble like that most are not long for this world."

Hoenheim looked around to see what could have inspired this comment, and spied the frail little girl sitting on the edge of the porch. Setting down the crate in his arms, he crouched down beside the child and asked her name.

"Isabel," she gasped, panting a bit afterwards to make up for her extra expenditure of breath.

"Hello Isabel. I would like to try to help you breath a little better if I can. How long have you sounded like this?"

"Since...forever..." she whispered, again trying to catch her breath.

"The flow of her chi is clearly blocked by some sort of build-up," muttered Hoenheim, as he brought his large hands to the tiny child's chest. Clapping his hands together, he replaced them on Isabel's chest and alchemically traced the flow of her respiratory system, removing any foreign matter that clogged the pathways. Isabel immediately started coughing, bringing up the blackened matter that had obstructed her breathing. Hoenheim held the girl over the side of the porch, encouraging her to spit it all out. When she had finished spluttering, the child inhaled deeply, shocked at the clarity of her breath.

The woman and her son on the other side of the porch started forward eagerly, having been a bit nervous during the procedure. They witnessed the girl breathing easily and smiling at first disbelievingly and then more widely at Hoenheim.

"It's a miracle!" exclaimed the woman. "Sir, I have seen many children with the breathing trouble, and none recover. How did you do it?"

Hoenheim had been oblivious to his audience, fully concentrated on his small patient, and so put a hand to the back of his head and let out a nervous laugh.

"No miracles here ma'am. Just a bit of Xingese healing alchemy I've picked up over the years...Now, if you'll excuse me."

He hefted the crate back into his arms and quickly entered the house over the protests of the woman and her son.

- -

"Well Hoenheim, now you've gone and done it," said Pinako. "If you ever hoped to have a quiet moment to yourself again you can kiss that goodbye. Performing such flashy alchemy right in front of Rita Belanger! On my front porch no less! It's been three days and I'm sure she's run her mouth to half the country already about how you snatched that child back from the jaws of death. Eh, at least you've given them something to talk about besides the government I suppose. I hope you're prepared to follow through. We've already had six people down here to see you, and once word gets out that you helped them, you're going to need your own office to deal with the volume of patients."

"Really Pinako," Hoenheim replied quietly, pausing to thoughtfully chew his stew. "I couldn't leave the child. It was an extremely simple matter to remove the debris that had built up in her system. Nothing complex at all."

Al leaned forward across the table toward his father enthusiastically.

"Of course you had to save her! Papa, can you teach me and Ed how to do stuff like that? We never saw it in your notes."

Ed, having quickly shoveled the remainder of his dinner inside his body throughout the last bit of conversation, got up and left the table before anything more could be said. Everyone stared after him, but they all had grown too used to his extreme moodiness since his return to Reisembol to bother saying anything. Even Winry, worn out from the constant stream of work, couldn't manage an insult or a wrench-throw at Edward's rude behavior.

- -

After leaving the house, Edward wandered around his old hometown aimlessly, finally deciding to head down toward the river where he and Al and Winry had so often played as children. They used to spend the late spring and summer days swimming and splashing in the cool shallows. Ed was feeling particularly nostalgic as he leaned back against the giant oak tree he was sitting under on this quiet spring night and tried to picture what his life would have been like if Trisha hadn't died, or if he and Al hadn't tried to bring her back. He would probably still have become an alchemist--he'd been transmuting simple objects by the time he was three--but it was unlikely that he'd have become a dog of the military. He'd have had a home and a family and would probably have found work as an alchemist or otherwise to support them. Maybe he would have had a girlfriend like a normal teenager...

_Eh,_ he thought, _It's stupid to even think about this crap. What happened, happened. I should be grateful it's all over and no one else is dead._

As happy as Edward was to have finished his quests, he was feeling more than a bit claustrophobic staying in the Rockbell house with Pinako, Hoenheim, Al and Winry. Everything was so busy over there, as that Belanger woman had now spread word that a medical alchemist was staying with the Rockbells. In addition to the regular customers, people were starting to come to the shop with assorted afflictions to see what Xing's mysterious healing alchemy could do for them.

Truthfully, the lack of enemies to fight and damaged property to repair was leaving the Fullmetal Alchemist feeling a bit out of his element.Having a giant never-tiring suit of armor to train with had certainly kept Ed on his toes. Now the best he could hope for from his brother was eventually re-training Al as he regained his strength.

Much as he tried to avoid thinking about it, Ed missed his brother terribly. He had sworn to do everything in his power to return Al to his body, and had been prepared to give up his own life in the process. Despite the relief he felt that this hadn't been necessary, Ed was completely unprepared to regain Al's mind and body at the cost of his memories of the past five years. Though Al had been an animated suit of armor, he had provided Edward with the support and understanding he'd needed to make it through. Even before his soul was tied to the suit of armor, Al's steady temperament had frequently made him seem like the older brother. He consistently brought Ed back down to earth, and remained his one anchor in the world, providing him with unconditional love and a sense of purpose. Without Al's guidance, Edward had no idea about how to deal with his loss of direction.

In addition to being annoyed by everyone fussing over Hoenheim and Al, Ed was disturbed to find that Winry had been acting really weird since the day of their return. Sure, she had a lot of work to do with curious neighbors interrupting her normal schedule of patients, but it seemed like every time Ed walked into a room she would get up and run out of it. Not that he minded the time alone, but it was weird. Usually she was all over him, checking his automail, picking on his height, and now: nothing. Not that Edward cared. It was just weird.

If there was anything that pleased him about the weeks since he'd returned to Reisembol, it was that he had actually grown markedly! Edward Elric was now .647 centimeters taller than he had been when he'd gotten to the house and checked up against his super-secret height-measuring wall inside the upstairs linen closet. He had suspected that this might happen now that his body was no longer sustaining Al's growth, but he hadn't dared to voice his hope that he might be gaining some height rather quickly. In terms of heredity it only made sense that he should be taller, as Trisha had been fairly tall for a woman and Hoenheim was clearly a freaking bear. Despite his tendency to feel guilty and unworthy about any and all effects of the failed human transmutation attempt, there was no question in Edward's mind about this issue. He _deserved_ that height after all these years of ridicule.

Sheltered as he was by the massive tree, Edward was surprised from his thoughts when a figure in blue crept up and settled down beside him. Winry. Ed tried to keep his eyes on the river, but couldn't resist sweeping them quickly over her. Blonde hair was pulled back in a long ponytail, and she was actually wearing a dress for once--had she been wearing it at dinner? He couldn't recall. The deep blue color looked mysterious in the moonlight, and Ed realized he hardly ever saw her wearing that color. It was usually pink, black, or that ugly beige of her coveralls. In blue she was beautiful.

_Eep! What am I thinking? This is Winry the machine freak I am talking about here. Ugh, I must be losing my mind stuck here with nothing to do._

The two blonds simply sat together, listening to the sound of the water and the whispering of the wind in the trees until Edward was surprised to find his breathing was calm, and he was less tense than he'd been in weeks. Maybe months.

The moment couldn't last forever, and eventually Winry turned her face toward her childhood friend and gathered her courage to try to get him to open up. She knew that she'd been avoiding this conversation for the past few weeks, hoping to catch Ed in a more lighthearted mood. Unfortunately, he seemed to become increasingly stubborn and unpleasant as time went by. There probably was no good time, and no good way to start. Still, Winry held onto some small hope that she could butter him up a little first.

"Hey Ed. I'm really glad you're home."

Edward snorted, immediately thinking of all the times Winry had avoided him since he'd been back.

"Oh really? Could have fooled me with the way everyone has been avoiding me like the plague."

Or not. That's right, this was the Fullmetal Alchemist she was dealing with after all. There could be no buttering up of someone so completely stubborn and obnoxious.

"Well if you weren't being an idiot running around glowering at everybody and practically oozing disgust all the time, maybe people would actually want to be around you occasionally. Why have you been so cranky anyway? You brought Al's body back and defeated Father and the homunculi. What do you have to be so surly about?"

Not really the tactic she'd planned on taking to address his apparent depression, but hey. It got the point across. Sort of.

"What do I? Argh! Of course I'm glad Al's got his body back. Of course I'm glad the homunculi are gone. It's just...now I don't..."

Oh how he longed for Al! It would have been so much easier to get this out with his older younger brother than with this person who had turned into so many different confusing things in the past few years. Just sitting next to her made him feel uneasy, comforted, infuriated and most of all left him yearning for something...was it to be closer to her? Or maybe just to get the hell away from her ridiculous temper and tendency to refuse to put up with his crap.

"You don't know what to do next, do you?"

See, there it was. That concise no-bullshit way of cutting right to his deepest fear and forcing him to confront it. Al too always knew what was really troubling him, but their bond seemed to allow him to skip over the most painful admissions and move on to a resolve to move forward and take care of their problems. Still, Ed knew in the back of his mind that he needed this. That tiny thread of realization was the only thing keeping him from jumping up and running away, like he had from the dinner table earlier that evening.

He made a strangled sound of annoyance, but cleared his throat.

"Well, I don't know if I have that much choice. My state alchemist license was renewed by Bradley in Dublith a couple months ago, so I'm in for at least a year. Even if I try to resign them and refuse to turn in my reassessment paperwork, there's no guarantee I can walk out of there. The only thing that would definitely happen is that I'd be put on probation and forbidden to do alchemical research. I'd still be in the military."

Winry shook her head a bit to clear it. She'd always assumed that once Al was back in his body, Ed would quit the military for good. The thought that he might not be able to had never occurred to her.

"But wouldn't Colonel Mustang help get you out? You've done so much for him, and I know he cares about you..."

Ed let out a flat and mirthless laugh.

"That bastard is the number one reason I'm stuck in the military. There's no way he'd accept a discharge request from me. Are you kidding? You know he wants to become the next Fuhrer--no, President--of Amestris. He's going to hold on to every single supporter he's got until he reaches the top."

Sighing, because somehow telling Winry unpleasant things always made him feel like such a bastard, Ed continued,

"On top of that, I kind of already promised to support him through this. As annoying as the guy is, he is the only possible candidate I know of who is really committed to reforming parliament and developing a democratic system here. Also...and you probably don't want to run around telling people this--"

Ed held up his hand to fend off Winry's indignant retort that she could handle sensitive information thank-you-very-much!

"but once we try to establish a system in which people can question the government's actions, a lot of our friends and allies are going to be in danger of being tried as war criminals because of their participation in the Ishval Annihilation campaign. Bradley made sure that no one who could potentially oppose him avoided participating in the horror so he had something on them to keep them in line. First Lieutenant Hawkeye told me that Mustang seems to think he can control the damage from such accusations and still encourage democracy, so it seems like as much of a bastard as he is, he is our best shot."

Winry looked at her feet and shivered a little bit. The air was not cold, but this new information was so huge and so crushingly inevitable that it seemed unreal hearing it in the quiet beauty of a country night. Grasping at whatever she could, Winry said,

"But you wouldn't be in danger from something like that Ed, you were just a kid during the Ishval campaign. You didn't become a state alchemist until well after that ended."

"That's true, and that's why I thought for a little while I might not get caught up in all of that. But the more I think about it, the more I realize that Hawkeye told me these things to try to make me understand why I couldn't get out. Why I have to remain a pawn in their stupid game. I am one of the...probably _the_ one...state alchemist not to have accepted orders to act as a human weapon on a large scale. That's why it was so important at Briggs that I escape before Kimbley could force me to 'carve a path of blood' or whatever. They want to use me as proof that state-sponsored alchemy doesn't have to result in mass destruction."

Winry realized that as much as she and Ed might want to call this situation a "stupid game", there was more at stake here than either of them could turn their backs on. She was suddenly struck by what an important role Ed had played in this country's history, and was awed at the responsibility he had unknowingly shouldered in his personal quest to right his past wrongs. How could someone so central to her little world have become such a valuable tool to those in power? Anger coursed through her as she wanted to grab Ed, hold him, and refuse to give him up to the grand forces that threatened to pull him out of her grasp.

She immediately felt ashamed of her selfishness. Here was Ed, bravely trying to come to grips with his place in this world, and all she could think of was how much she wanted to hold him back. Because of her "crush" on him. How lame was that? A very painful feeling in the pit of her stomach forced her to realize the truth. She couldn't hold him back, even if she tried. The best she could hope to do was to gracefully let him go, and continue to support him from afar as she'd always done. Nothing had changed after all.

Winry stood up and brushed off her dress.

"I guess you do know what you're going to do after all," she said softly.

Ed also got to his feet, more than a bit confused at the turn their conversation had taken. While he was glad to have talked out the political situation with Winry, it left him feeling even more alone than he'd felt before. He felt like a window had closed between the two of them. They were both still there, unchanged but separate. Ed suddenly wished that she would yell and scream and tell him to stop being an arrogant jerk and to stay at home where he belonged, but she kept silent, and she was right.

"Yeah," he said, equally softly, "When the Colonel calls, I'll return to Central."

_So much for coming home_, he thought as the two teenagers turned their backs on the river and headed toward the Rockbell house.

- o - o - o - o - o -

A/N: This got real serious real fast, but I wanted to get set up for future developments. I hope for more cute moments next chapter! Thanks so much if you reviewed!


	3. Chapter 3

I don't own FMA. Pout pout pout.

Chapter 3

The morning after his conversation with Winry by the riverside, Ed was feeling bleak but a little more in control after having come to the definite conclusion that he would be returning to Central when Mustang sent for him. He'd spent the night tossing and turning, trying to ignore the feeling of hopelessness in Winry's last words to him. She hadn't even said goodnight when they reached their separate bedrooms. Winry always said goodnight. She was crazed for goodnights and goodbyes, but she hadn't even turned to look at him when he'd muttered a gruff "see you in the morning."

He had decided that there was no use in avoiding the colonel's summons, but problematically, days went by and he still hadn't received any communications from Central. Edward thought that it would seem a little weird for him to call them, since Mustang's entourage clearly knew where he was, so he was left with waiting. And waiting. The more waiting he did, the more depressed and helpless he felt.

Winry and Al sat in the Rockbell kitchen finishing breakfast a few days after the night Edward and Winry had talked about his plans for the future. At first, Winry had felt good about her decision to support Ed going back to Central. He had acted more civil towards her than he had in the three weeks he'd been back, thanking her for meals and even occasionally helping her with some chore or automail project. It seemed like the wall between them had lowered a bit. After a couple of days passed, however, Ed was clearly in as much of a funk as he ever had been. During the day he disappeared outdoors, and after dinner last night he'd moodily complained about having nothing to read. When Winry offered him her stash of old issues of _Automail Mechanic Monthly_ he just glared at her and went up to bed though it was only eight o'clock.

Al was slowly eating his second helping of oatmeal, having been forced into double meals by Pinako and Winry's horror at the state of his body. It did feel different than he'd remembered. Running and lifting things tired him out more quickly than he was used to, and even old Den had more stamina. Al was eager to get better though, and had even asked Ed at breakfast if he could spar with him like they used to do every day. Edward had mumbled something about that not being a good idea right now and had then taken off, not even bothering to clear his place at the table. No one said anything, despite Al's obvious confusion at being rebuffed like that by his adored brother. There was an unspoken consensus not to go too fast with Al in an attempt to let his mind and body readjust to the world without traumatizing him with all the horrific details of recent events. 

Once Hoenheim and Pinako had left the table, Winry sat with Al while poring over the new parts catalog from their hardware supplier. Al decided to try to get an explanation out of her.

"Winry, why doesn't Ed want to be around me anymore? Did I do something in the time I can't remember that he's mad at me about?"

Winry glanced around the room to see if there was anyone nearby who could save her from having to decide how to handle this question. While she was all for protecting Al, Winry was secretly of the opinion that a ten year old boy who had trained under Izumi Curtis and performed human transmutation could probably handle more than the other members of his family were willing to give him.

Sighing, Winry said,

"No Al, you didn't do anything wrong, and I don't think it's that Ed doesn't want to be around you. If anything, the two of you were closer in the last five years than you've ever been, if that's even possible. What I mean is, the two of you were traveling alone most of the time and saw Granny and I pretty rarely, so you depended on each other for everything. You always knew what Ed was thinking, and helped him to make the difficult decisions that he's had to deal with. Don't ever think that he is angry with you. I think he just...misses you."

"But Winry, I'm right here, and I want to talk to him but he hardly even looks at me," said Al despondently.

"Oh Al, don't feel badly about it. Ed devoted himself to getting your body back and I _know_ that he is extremely happy that you're back in it. The thing is, you and he were so close for the past five years that now that you can't remember what happened, he feels lonely."

"If brother feels lonely, why won't he spar with me? Five years may have gone by, but brother _always_ gets cranky when he's not active enough."

Winry laughed. "I think we all know that's a big part of the problem! But a lot of things have changed in the past five years. Your lives were really hard and dangerous, and Ed has grown much stronger than you remember. When you were a seven-foot high nearly indestructible suit of armor, Ed could still beat you most of the time even without resorting to alchemy. Now that you're back in the body of a ten year old boy, and a skinnier one than you ever were at that, Ed doesn't want to hurt you, and I think he also blames himself that your body is in that condition. Once you get a little stronger, you should ask Ed to train you. I'm sure he'd be happy to do so, and it would be a good way for you two to get to know each other again."

She got up and moved over to the sink to wash out her bowl.

"For now though, you can start by finishing your oatmeal and helping Granny put the new orders in the storeroom. We've got to build you back up bit by bit, so try your best, and you'll be back to sparring with Ed in no time."

Unbeknownst to the two clearing up in the kitchen, Van Hoenheim had been about to return to the kitchen to refill his glass of water when he overheard Al's question to Winry. He had been very interested in how the girl would decide to answer it, as he had avoided several similar questions over the past few weeks. 

Van Hoenheim had very mixed feelings about the life he was settling into. On the one hand, it felt better than he had imagined to wake up in the morning surrounded by people who knew him and accepted him (however reluctantly in the case of his elder son) and to proceed to do a full day's work helping people, whether by aiding Pinako and Winry, or by performing healing alchemy on grateful patients. The flip side to this was that he was perhaps too quickly accepted into the role of father to Al, a boy who he had last seen when he was a toddler. Al was obviously extremely enthusiastic about having found his father. Winry, Pinako, and even Edward (though perhaps out of sulkiness in his case) were willing to leave the ultimate decisions of Al's wellbeing to Hoenheim, who felt extremely ill-qualified to make such decisions. How was he supposed to know how to best deal with Al's curiosity about the time his soul was bound to a suit of armor? Hoenheim had only the vaguest of ideas as to how the majority of that time was spent, and had only encountered his younger son's metal form once, during the heat of battle.

The only person who Hoenheim was sure would know best how to handle such questions was the one who had been acting as a parent to Al for the past seven or eight years, and who was unfortunately hell-bent on avoiding them at all costs. The few times Edward would get caught with a question from Al he would act much as he had this morning, leaving it to someone else to deal with.

What Winry and Al had said about Edward's moodiness being caused by idleness made sense...Hoenheim himself could remember that back when he was a mortal boy he had needed extreme amounts of exercise to help him get out his frustration at his lowly situation in life. After the life he'd been leading up to returning to Reisembol, Edward was probably suffering from adrenaline withdrawal. The change in lifestyle could more than account for Edward's depression.

Edward might never forgive Van Hoenheim for leaving Trisha, but that didn't mean that his father couldn't be of use to him in some way. Resolved to do what he could, Hoenheim set his glass down on an end table and left to find his son. 

- o - o - o - 

_This is it, Edward Elric has officially lost it_, thought the boy as he laid on the grass in the Rockbell's back yard and thumbed through last month's edition of _Automail Mechanic Monthly_. It was a sad day when the Fullmetal Alchemist was driven to read about advances in wrist pivot technology in order to stave off all-encompassing mind-numbing soul-crushing boredom. Ed was sprawled out between two overgrown bushes where he was fairly sure he couldn't be seen from the house. After his talk with Winry by the river, Edward had become somewhat paranoid about being confronted, and had sought out places to pass the time where he was unlikely to be found by the members of the household or their neighbors and customers.

This backyard spot was perfect, Edward thought, because who would suspect he had actually remained so close to the house? He was just congratulating himself on this success, when he heard a slight rustle in the bush to his left. Ed figured it was Den, come to try to ruin the sanctity of his new hiding spot. 

"Go away you stupid dog," he stage whispered.

With a rush of air, Edward found himself picked up off the ground and hurled into the open area of the backyard.

"WAAAAAAAH-what the freaking hell?!" screamed Ed, spinning around to regard his assailant. 

Hoenheim stood calmly, looking at Edward's flustered reaction with mild interest. It was the most animated he'd seen his elder son in a while. Surprisingly quickly for a man his size, Hoenheim sprang forward and tried to land a blow to Ed's left shoulder. The boy managed to dodge, but just barely.

"What the hell are you doing, old man? Have you lost it?!" screamed Edward as he furiously backpedaled away from his father.

Still advancing on his son, Hoenheim sedately stated, "I overheard Al and Winry mentioning that your recent depression is likely due at least in part to a lack of exercise, and that Al's weakened state has prevented you from sparring with him as you normally would. I, on the other hand, am perfectly capable and willing to train with you, so I sought you out."

Hoenheim feinted left and managed to send Ed off balance with a blow to his automail arm.

"I was a bit disappointed to find you so off your guard."

"Well maybe I wasn't expecting to be attacked in my own back yard!" growled Ed, annoyed that he had not managed to dodge the last punch.

"So this is the level of preparedness taught by the Amestrian military. Interesting," said Hoenheim as he neatly blocked a kick to the side from Ed.

Having been unable to miss the sounds commotion in the back yard, Winry, Al, Pinako, and the customer who had come by to pick up his repaired leg rushed to the back windows to watch as the fight unfolded. Al moved to go out the back door, but Pinako grabbed his shoulder.

"Leave them be. You can watch from here, but don't let them see you," she cautioned.

The two continued to trade kicks and punches, Hoenheim rarely landing any on the smaller lighter boy, but also managing to avoid almost all of Ed's attacks.

"Really Edward, I expected more of the famous Fullmetal Alchemist. Izumi would be highly disappointed if she could see the way you are leaving yourself open on the right side. Automail or no, there is no reason to be so careless."

Ed gritted his teeth and leapt over Hoenheim's shoulder attempting to strike him with the automail fist. Hoenheim blocked the shot with his forearm and advanced before Edward could fully land on his feet.

"Is this the way you fought when they told you they had Winry?" asked Hoenheim, trying to goad Edward into quicker responses.

Furious at being at a disadvantage and shamed at the reminder of Winry's capture, Ed snapped back,

"No, then things got a little more _serious_."

At this, Edward clapped and alchemized his blade from the automail of his right hand. Inside the house, Winry gasped and turned to her grandmother beseechingly.

"Excellent reaction time," remarked Hoenheim.

Just barely dodging Edward's slash, Hoenheim clapped and pulled a rather ornate broadsword from the ground beneath him. He parried Ed's next lunge, but hesitated at the sound of the back door slamming shut. 

"That's enough."

Both gasping for breath, father and son turned to see Pinako hobbling sedately toward them, pipe in hand. 

"There'll be no fighting with alchemy in my back yard, thank you very much. Now Edward, since you're feeling so active today, I have a list of things we need from Johanson's Hardware in town before our three o'clock appointment. Go inside and get it from Winry. I expect you back in two hours, and if you are even five minutes late you'll be doing dishes for a week."

"Yes Granny."

Ed shamefacedly returned his arm to normal and headed inside.

Once Ed was safely inside, Pinako turned to Hoenheim.

"I wonder if you would accompany an old lady on a bit of a walk while I wait for those parts," she said, not waiting for an answer as she started on the path toward the river.

Hoenheim dissolved his sword back into the ground and followed the tiny woman, feeling a bit uneasy.

"I'm sorry if I broke some sort of house rules about the use of alchemy, Pinako, but I overheard Winry and Al talking about how Ed could use some exercise but was unwilling to work with his brother in such a weakened state."

"Oh I'm glad you decided to spar with Edward. Goodness knows the boy needs something to shock him out of this mood he's been in lately. I'm glad you did it and for all of our sakes I hope you keep at it as often as he needs to blow off steam, which could put quite a dent in your free time," she chuckled.

"And as for alchemy, I certainly don't mind it being practiced if, for example, you were to teach Ed and Al what you know of medical alchemy. That would keep them out of trouble and give you some help with the patients that come in asking for you."

The two had walked far enough along the path that they were well out of sight and earshot of the house and the main road. Pinako stopped walking and turned to face Hoenheim seriously.

"The one thing that I absolutely forbid is fighting with alchemy if not absolutely necessary. I'm not sure what you know or don't know about Edward's life these past years, but one thing is for sure. That child has had more experience fighting with alchemy than is good for anybody. He may act silly or look cute, but as a state alchemist 'dog of the military' that child has been trained to kill. Winry tells me he tries not to do so even though it makes his job immeasurably more difficult. He's constantly fighting against taking the easy way out and using alchemy for destruction. Don't push him, because you're not invulnerable anymore, and the last thing that child needs is the guilt at having hurt his own father."

The surprise Hoenheim felt at this speech was evident from his expression. Was Edward really so close to the edge when fighting? Hoenheim was suddenly reminded of his own mortality, and wondered at how quickly sometimes he was able to forget about it.

"Out of curiosity, what did you say to him, before he changed his arm like that?"

Hoenheim cleared his throat, a bit embarrassed to have been caught by the sharp old lady.

"I was disappointed in his reaction times, and was trying to urge a bit more of a response from him...So I asked him if that was how he fought his enemies when they had Winry."

Pinako sighed, and looked at Hoenheim pityingly.

"So you knew about that. If there's one thing I wish it's that I could throttle with my own hands the man who had the bright idea to use Winry against Edward. He may not have ruined everything for good, but it will take a long time and a lot of doing to straighten this mess out. The boy is quick, a certified genius, and he now has it very firmly ingrained in his head that there is a direct correlation between his caring for someone and that person being hurt or used for evil ends. It's made Winry completely miserable, and now that Al is back to being a skinny flesh and blood kid he's just one more liability that Edward has to deal with. It breaks my heart all over again to see Edward distancing himself from the one person who he's allowed to always be there for him. But he's a genius after all and he learns his lessons well."

Hoenheim stared out at the lush countryside around him, and felt a chill at the thought that history repeats itself without regard for the young and inexperienced. If he could fall prey to such a damning scenario when he was over 400 years old and practically indestructible, how must it be for his sixteen year old son?

"Oddly enough," Pinako continued, "even though you are still on Edward's list of unforgivable people since he still blames you for Trisha's death, the fact that he assumes he doesn't care what happens to you may give you a unique opportunity to get close to him. You have something that Edward wants--your knowledge of alchemy--and you are clearly a good choice for him to leave to guard his family, since you're hardly helpless.

"Winry admitted to me that Edward plans to go back to Central when that Mustang person calls for him--she says he doesn't really have a choice. Until that time, spar with Edward; teach the boys what you know of medical alchemy. Don't expect Ed to like you, but try to show him he can trust you."

With that, Pinako turned and left Hoenheim alone on the path with his thoughts.

- o - o - o – o - o - o – o - o - o – o - o - o – o - o - o – o - o - o – o - o - o – o - o - o –

A/N: Please review and let me know what you think so far! Many thanks if you already have!


	4. Chapter 4

Don't own FMA, but I like it a lot!

Chapter 4

Major General Roy Mustang was sitting behind his huge gilt desk in Central City at nine o'clock sharp, attempting to marshal his thoughts as new aspects of the situation Amestris currently faced constantly bombarded him. He lowered his head into his hands and focused on his goals.

_1. Become President of Amestris._

2. Use this position to reform parliament and create a functional representative government.

3. Present an impenetrable front to surrounding nations in order to stave off invasion while Amestris undergoes political change. 

The list continued, but after that most goals were actually plans to further one of the first three. Sadly, mini-skirts for female military personnel did not even make it into the top twenty.

_I'm getting old_, thought Roy.

There was a knock at the door, and a brisk "Sir?" brought a much-needed smile to Roy's face.

"Come in, Hawkeye! I have something to say to you that's been a long time coming."

Mustang's tone of pure glee had Riza Hawkeye suspicious within milliseconds of hearing it. She took in her commanding officer's slightly disheveled appearance, noting his mussed hair and the circles under his eyes. Riza knew he'd gone home last night because she'd kicked him out of the office herself shortly after midnight. He must have turned around and come right back after only a few hours' sleep, since there were already two coffee cups sitting empty on his desk. Lots of caffeine and not enough sleep--a combination that has led to the concoction of many of Mustang's less brilliant plans. He said whatever it was had been a long time coming though, so perhaps she wouldn't be subjected to something totally senseless if he'd had time to think it through. She just hoped she wasn't about to be issued a mini-skirt or else, major general or no, Mustang was about to enter a world of pain.

Mustang gathered a stack of papers that had been sitting before him and stuffed them into an envelope. He stood up and leaned across his ornate desk to hand it to her with a huge grin. As Riza extended her hand to grasp the packet with no small amount of trepidation, Roy shouted, "You're fired!"

Riza looked at him like he had three heads. Roy just cackled.

"Haha, no, seriously. Those are your discharge papers already taken care of by General Grumman and myself, all they need is your signature, then you can run them down to the records department. You can spend the rest of the day tying up whatever loose ends you have around here, unfinished projects and whatnot, and over dinner tonight we can discuss your 'reassignment.'"

Mustang disintegrated into more gleeful chuckles, looking terribly pleased with himself. Riza decided the stress must finally have gotten to be too much for him, and opened the packet to see what it actually contained. She opened the manila envelope and found...discharge papers, for one Lieutenant Colonel Riza Hawkeye, dated--

"These papers are dated over two months ago," she stated, shocked into monotone.

Roy looked at her blank face, his mirth fading as he recognized the signs of emotional shut-down in his subordinate.

"Yes, well, they were drawn up right before we faced down Bradley, as part of the plans for rebuilding Amestris--we've just been waiting for things to calm down a bit--surely Grumman said something to you...?"

He trailed off; getting the sense that going any further would not be a good idea.

"Heh, well, I suppose he expected me to say something, but as long as I'm your commanding officer, I can hardly just...," He trailed off again, dismayed. This was not going the way he had expected it to. "Are you seriously saying you weren't expecting this, Riza?"

By the time he got to her name, Mustang was speaking uncharacteristically softly, as if he were afraid of being overheard. This made no sense. Riza was trying to understand what was going on, but was coming up with nothing. The man who she had devoted her life to watching over was now telling her he didn't want her. Why was he forcing her out of a job she loved and clearly excelled at doing? The military was her life. And he was telling her that General Grumman, her own grandfather, had participated in this betrayal.

Before Riza could snap out of this muddle of hurt into righteous indignation, the door opened after a sharp knock. Captain Breda, newly promoted and recently arrived from Western Headquarters, walked into the tense atmosphere.

"Ah Breda, excellent," said Mustang, sensing an opportunity to slither out of his current uncomfortable situation, "I have a few tasks that need your careful attention. Hawkeye, think over what I've said and we'll talk later. You're dismissed."

Dazedly, Riza floated out of the room, clutching the wretched envelope to her chest. She gave Mustang no response and didn't even bother to salute. Breda couldn't help but notice this out of character behavior, and turned a raised eyebrow to Mustang as the door shut.

"Thank goodness you walked in when you did Breda," Mustang said, sincerely relieved to see his most trusted strategist. "Please sit down. Now, to business."

Mustang doubted he could fully cover up the awkward situation with Hawkeye from Breda's sharp eye, but he thought perhaps he could distract him with the problems at hand.

"I'm counting on your input on how to deal with the delegations that should be arriving soon from Drachma and Aruego. We need to present a strong front to all potential threats and buy ourselves some time to organize. I've been going through the profiles of the current members of parliament, and it seems that we'll have to hold elections to replace these guys before we can even think about organizing a general presidential election."

Breda leaned back in the opulently upholstered chair, considering the situation. "I think it's for the best that we take some time before encouraging presidential elections. For the time being, Grumman holds temporary power as the most senior military officer not convicted of colluding with Bradley. The public looks to him as a kind of comforting grandfatherly figure. While he can't remain in this position indefinitely, things are secure enough with him that we can concentrate on strengthening our position before making any sort of move."

Mustang nodded. "But which to work on first? Protecting the borders by forming alliances with other nations in order to buy time and security with which to straighten out internal affairs? Or should we focus on rebuilding the political structure of this country so that it can stand on its own feet and face external threats?"

"The only answer, Major General, has to be to work on both at once, a bit at a time. We must not put off meeting with the delegations from Drachma, Aruego, or anywhere else, as we don't want them running back with tales of our weakness. At the same time we must move forward in trying to build a representative system. To do both of these things we need the public squarely behind us. It has been weeks now and we still have not given out an official account of Bradley's overthrow in anything but the barest details. Rumors are flying wildly around the country. That sort of thing needs to be stopped before we can restore order."

"We've been so busy with the cleanup here in Central, trying to root out any remaining supporters of the Homunculi, that public relations haven't been a priority. Besides, what can we tell them that they'll believe? That their fuhrer and his ten-year-old son were monsters created by a mad alchemist determined to kill everyone in Amestris to sustain his power?" Mustang's tone was incredulous.

Breda sighed. "Of course not. All they need to know is that Bradley was corrupt, supported experimentation on humans, and was crushed by those who have the best interests of Amestris at heart. They also need a hero to focus on, someone already well-known and liked with a blameless past."

It was Mustang's turn to heave a sigh. He looked tiredly at the Captain. "You want me to call back Fullmetal."

"Look General, you kept him out of this clean-up effort as best you could. Most of the bloody stuff is over with. We can try to keep him out of the rest of it--though you know how he and trouble can't keep their hands off each other--but we need Elric back here, supporting the cause, rebuilding things, meeting the delegates and making you look good. If we get his name on the invitation we might even score an alliance with Xing since the kid saved the emperor's son who was possessed."

"That's true," mused Mustang, the guilt at having to disrupt the life of his youngest officer somewhat allayed by the thought of an alliance with their powerful neighbor to the east. "Still, I don't want to bring him down here until we have things ready to move. Fullmetal deserves a break."

"Send him the summons, give him a week, tell him to bring his cute girlfriend if you think it'll help. But the sooner he gets here, the sooner we can start moving forward."

Mustang nodded, pressing a button to summon an aide. "I'll get moving on that right away."

Breda got up, saluted, and moved to the door of the spacious office. Before exiting, though, he paused. "Sir, it may be none of my business, but were those discharge papers Hawkeye was running out of here with?"

Mustang nodded uncomfortably.

"Do you want me to try to talk to her?"

Roy looked up at him desperately. "Would you? I'd look at it as a personal favor."

Breda rolled his eyes and walked out of the door, waving his hand over his shoulder behind him. "I'll do what I can."

-o-o-o-

It had been very difficult to convince Riza Hawkeye to go out for a drink with some of the guys after finishing work for the day. Riza had gone through the motions of her normal routine, but had hardly spoken three words to anyone and had flatly refused any suggestions that she check up on the major general to assure he was getting something done, a daunting task that people still regarded as her specialty. She did her best to ward off comment by being particularly prickly and unapproachable. Anyone other than a brilliant intellectual strategist with a favor from a man likely to become the next president on the line would have given up in frustration or at least tried again another day. Hawkeye was silent, evasive, and then downright rude, but Breda finally pinned her into going out by questioning her allegiance to the team and insinuating that her promotion after the battle with Bradley had gone to her head. To prove that she didn't consider herself above the group, Riza finally consented to join them, but remained quiet, sitting on the fringe of the pack of officers and sipping at her pint of beer despondently.

After a little goading from Havoc, who had joined them in his wheelchair, and a somewhat tipsy Fuery, Hawkeye accepted a few shots of whiskey in order to prove that she didn't think she was better than anybody now that she had a few more stripes on her uniform. Actually, now that she thought about it, everyone from Mustang's original crew had earned a promotion or two along the way, so why would Breda say that she was acting like she'd surpassed them? Just as this thought started to fully penetrate Riza's whiskey-clouded brain, she found that most of the guys had moved to a table to play cards and that she was sitting alone at the end of the bar with Breda, who was fiddling with a book of matches.

"Alright Hawkeye, nobody's listening, and if anybody hears things, it'll just be excused as drunken rambling," Breda started, figuring that direct confrontation had the best chance of breaking down Riza's walls. "I know that Mustang gave you discharge papers today."

Riza recoiled as if burned, and edged as far back as she could from Breda without actually getting up out of her stool. "He told you? That ass. How can this be happening to me?"

Breda looked at her in sympathy. This poor girl had risen in rank dramatically in her relatively short term of service, earning every promotion through hard work, talent, and unwavering loyalty to her commanding officer. She'd started at the academy when she was barely sixteen so the culture of the military was all that she'd known outside her own family. Although her father was a famous alchemist and her grandfather was currently running the country, Hawkeye had spent most of her life following orders, and likely didn't fully understand the political motivations those orders served.

"You think this is the end of the world Hawkeye, but there's a few things that nobody seems to have filled you in on that you should consider before you get too worked up. And Mustang didn't tell me. He didn't have to. I think you'd find, if you were to ask around, that a lot of people have seen this coming for you, or have at least considered the possibility."

Hawkeye continued to stare at Breda, trying to sift through his words to find some meaning--any meaning.

Breda let out a sigh. He really was going to have to spell it all out.

"Okay. Here are some facts that may help you out. First, you consistently put yourself in danger to protect Mustang. He in turn is at his most reckless when he thinks you're in danger. Next, Mustang is dedicated to becoming the next president of Amestris. General Grumman has said publicly that he would give his granddaughter's hand in marriage to the man who will become the next president. And finally, as you remind the major general daily, it is inappropriate to conduct a relationship of a romantic nature with a subordinate officer."

Due to the alcohol, Breda hoped, since normally Riza Hawkeye was exceptionally sharp, it took a minute for all this information to line up in the proper order. Once it did, she gasped.

"You can't mean he thinks that I would happily roll over and become...If he thinks that I can give up my whole life and everything I've worked for just to be some, some pathetic...As if I would ever...that miserable excuse for a man anyway," she rambled, blushing furiously and maddeningly angry that she could be made to do so.

"I think he has every intention of asking you to become his wife," said Breda calmly, filling in the blanks and forcing Riza to hear him out. "And we all know how you feel about him, whether you want to admit it to yourself or not. It's clear that you can put up with him when no one else will, and that he's always been crazy about you. But he isn't just asking you to become his wife. If he thought you'd be interested in something so mundane I'm sure he'd have asked you years ago. He's hoping that you'll become the wife of the next president of Amestris.

"Mustang knows he can count on you to support him in this and to get things done that may not be easy for him to do as a member of the military. We are entering a new stage of the game, Hawkeye, and battles with the homunculi will give way to battles for public opinion."

Riza focused on remaining calm and collected as she processed Breda's words. Despite trying to hide it from Mustang and the rest of the officers, Riza had admitted her feelings for Roy to herself years ago. She'd even suspected he returned those feelings to some degree. Regardless, Riza had realized long ago that in oder to stay close to him, she needed to let go of any hope that they could have any relationship outside of work. She had spent so many years coming to terms with this that it was shocking to have it all turned upside-down on her head.

"So you think this is his reason for firing me? To have me act as the president's wife?" Riza forced herself to say the word, but it left a bitter taste in her mouth. "Tell me Breda, how much of this do you think is Mustang hoping to twist Grumman's words? If he takes me as his wife, is he counting on then gaining my grandfather's support for the presidency?"

_So she isn't completely ignorant to the possible political motivations behind a move like this_, thought Breda.

"I think he already has Grumman's support, and that both of them know that Mustang will be a far better president with you by his side than he could ever hope to be without you," said Breda.

This seemed to mollify Riza somewhat, or maybe just push her further into her embarrassment at the personal turn these events were taking.

_Man, Mustang seriously owes me for that one_.

"Though I totally agree with your earlier statement Hawkeye: the guy's a total ass for not telling you this shit himself. I certainly hope you don't intend to start letting him get away with crap like this."

"Hmm, I certainly don't plan to start now, Breda," she said, dreamily fingering the snap on the holster where she kept her handgun as she drained her glass and got up to head home, determined to call Roy out on whatever scheme he was planning to involve her in.

_Heh. I hope I'm not around when that goes down,_ Breda thought, and hastened to join Havoc, Fuery, and Falman for a round of poker before it got too late.

-o-o-o-

The next morning, things were quiet around Major General Mustang's office. _A little too quiet, perhaps_, thought Mustang as he signed off on some more paperwork dealing with the reconstruction of parts of the city damaged during the battle with Bradley and the homunculi. One of Mustang's aides had come in around nine in place of Hawkeye, Second Lieutenant Amandine Kilroy or something, and had assured him that the communication to the Fullmetal Alchemist had left with yesterday's post, and proceeded to reel off his appointments for the day. Mustang barely listened, but told the petite woman to leave the list with him and to remind him ten minutes prior to each appointment. Hawkeye would have known better than to expect him to remember a bunch of names and times rattled off first thing in the morning. He sighed moodily, and went back to signing work orders.

A throat was cleared loudly in front of him. Roy looked up to see Riza standing in front of his desk, still in uniform.

"First Lieutenant Kilroy asked me on the way by her desk to tell you that a gentleman calling himself Lord Charles Brinkley-Knox had his secretary come by earlier to arrange an appointment with you."

"Brinkley-Knox...isn't that one of those useless members of parliament? Why on earth would he be calling himself 'Lord'? As far as the history books tell us, any existing aristocracy was abolished at the founding of Amestris over 300 years ago," Roy grumbled, annoyed out of his surprise at seeing Hawkeye in his office after yesterday's disastrous meeting. Just what they needed while trying to bring democracy to Amestris: some loon trying to pull it back into the dark ages.

"You'll just have to find out when you meet with him tomorrow," said Hawkeye blandly.

Mustang grunted, and started in on a new stack of papers, these ones to do with the impending arrival of ambassadors from Drachma. Apparently they were sending a princess and a couple of counts.

Riza cleared her throat a second time, and Roy looked no less startled to see that she was still standing before him than he had been before.

"Yes Hawkeye?"

"As regards to the matter we spoke of yesterday, _sir_," she said, somewhat sarcastically. "You mentioned some sort of reassignment in exchange for my cooperation in this matter. I'd like to know the terms you have in mind before I agree to anything."

Mustang looked somewhat chagrined. What exactly had Breda said to her? "Er, that's not really how I would put it, but, surely you see we can't talk about it here," he said, somewhat pompously. Then he grinned disarmingly. "Meet me for dinner and I'll tell you all about it. I'll pick you up at eight."

Riza couldn't quite bring herself to vocally accept an invitation from Mustang that sounded so much like a _date_, so she almost imperceptibly nodded and left the office, making a conscious effort to ignore his cheerful humming as she walked out the door.

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A/N I'm back after a bit of a Thanksgiving break. I hope everyone ate a lot of food and didn't get hit with as many footballs as I did...

This chapter was really hard for me to write, as there's a lot I want to establish about politics in Amestris, the military, and Riza's distaste for the idea of being a housewife. It's back to Reisembol for the next chapter, but please let me know what you think!

Reviews are my favorite things 3 


	5. Chapter 5

Clearly don't own FMA, but I enjoy the chance to play with it!

Chapter 5

Rain was pouring down in Reisembol, preventing Edward from making an escape to the backyard as he'd planned today. Fortunately, this seemed to mean that there were no obnoxious patients wheezing around the house, waiting for Hoenheim to work on them while giving a rundown of his procedures to Al. Unfortunately, the rain also meant that there would be no sparring with Hoenheim, unless both of them wanted to get yelled at by Winry and Pinako on top of getting drenched. Staring morosely out of the front window, Edward sighed and pretended to ignore his father and brother who were enthusiastically continuing the Xingian alchemy lessons that had been going on for the past week in between caring for patients and helping the Rockbells.

Though he was determined not to appear interested in any teaching from the man who had left Ed and Al's beloved mother alone and helpless, other members of the household could not help but notice that whenever an alchemy lesson was occurring between Hoenheim and Al, Ed was never far away. The elder Elric preferred to listen from another room, but usually managed to casually walk in just at the right moment to view any pertinent diagrams or charts, and never failed to call out a challenge to anything Hoenheim said that could possibly be contested.

"The principles of what most Amestrians call Xingian alchemy differ from the alchemy you are familiar with in that rather than creating an object through visualization of the object based on an array, basic Xingian alchemy is more concerned with tracing the flow of energy in a living being and rearranging its components in order to free conduits of any blockage. The organs of the human body naturally work to divert harmful matter to the sides of the system in order to preserve the flow of chi (life energy). Oftentimes systems that we understand as functioning separately, such as the respiratory and circulatory systems, will work together to divert blockages when the patient experiences disease or injury."

'Wouldn't both systems just shut down?" demanded Ed somewhat sarcastically, quickly walking from the entry hall past Hoenheim and Al, who were sitting in the living room, books and notebooks between them on the couch, and back out of the room so that he could more easily pretend not to be interested. Once in the kitchen, he paused to hear his father's response.

"That is true if the pathology or trauma reaches a critical point, but I think you will find once you take a bit closer look at the inner workings of an every-day human that there are many shades of grey, and more interdependence than you might suspect. A small amount of blockage in the lungs, for example, has an impact on both the respiratory and the circulatory system, as in the case of that child who I treated on the porch. She was on the verge of a shutdown that would have immediately effected both systems. Thankfully, I was able to alchemically trace her respiratory system and force out the foreign matter that had gradually built up over time."

Al let out a low sound of awe and approval, even though he'd heard an explanation of this event after it had happened, and had attended the healing of several patients with similar troubles. The brown-haired boy quickly turned to make some sort of note in his notebook about the interaction of biological systems.

"Yay you," muttered Ed, stomping over to the sink for a glass of water and briefly missing the sound his automail leg made when stomping. With that thing clanking, nobody could miss the fact that Edward Elric was NOT HAPPY with the situation. Maybe he needed louder shoes.

"Well," said Hoenheim, turning to Al but keeping his voice raised enough that Edward wouldn't miss anything. Humorous as it was to hear his eldest son who "could not possibly care any less about this Xingian crap" screech "WHAT?" from the next room over whenever Hoenheim lowered his voice slightly, it became annoying to constantly have to repeat himself.

"I think that you have learned enough basic theory and might now be ready for a bit of practical observation. Let's return to thinking about what I told you about plants on Tuesday. To begin with, I'd like you to try tracing the flow of energy through this common houseplant, Al," he said, holding up a potted geranium that had been sitting on the end table.

"To start, try to find the frame of mind you are in right before performing the alchemy you are accustomed to, when you are trying to build an awareness of the elements you have to work with. Focus on the plant, and try to become aware of not just the chemical makeup, but the movement throughout it." A bit more loudly, Hoenheim called, "Edward, I think there's a spider plant on the windowsill in the kitchen if you'd care to try."

Ed jumped a bit at being addressed directly and grumbled something like "I'd like to see you try to make me," but nevertheless drifted over to the windowsill and brought his focus to the somewhat dilapidated spider plant resting there. The tips of the leaves were withered, and once Ed began to really trace the life processes of the plant, he noticed that there were areas of black matter clustered on the sides of the plant's veins.

"Hey!" he called. "So if I want to get rid of a blockage, I just sort of push the foreign matter out of any available pores?"

"That's the idea," said Hoenheim, getting up from watching Al on the couch and standing in the doorway of the kitchen where he could see his eldest son crouching by the windowsill with his hands on either side of the houseplant. Small beams of light raced through the plant as black gunk oozed to the surface of the many leaves.

"Now you must remove the harmful matter so that it is not reabsorbed," said Hoenheim, handing Edward a rag from the sink. Ed carefully began to trace each leaf, drawing away the blackness and leaving a much greener and healthier sheen behind.

Hoenheim motioned to Al to come into the room and observe his brother's work. "Note the immediate increase in the clarity of the chlorophyll, Alphonse. Excellent work, Edward."

"Thanks," said Ed, with a quick smile. Still absorbed in his work, he had completely forgotten to ignore Hoenheim.

-o-o-o-

After dinner the rain had stopped, and Edward had rushed outside to start performing Xingian alchemy on larger and more complex plants. Rolling up the sleeves of his white button-up shirt, Edward approached plant after plant, examining its structure and encouraging each to release any built up toxins. Hoenheim sat on the porch watching with Al and Pinako, who was enjoying a bit of a break since most of her customers had already come in for their periodic maintenance this spring.

"Brother sure looks happy," said Al, relieved that the tension between Edward and their father had at least temporarily dissolved. "He has that concentrated look on his face. I hope that I can learn to fix plants soon too."

"I'm sure you will, Al. Certain things just come quicker to some people. Look at Ed, state alchemist by the time he's twelve, nationally recognized genius, but he runs into Winry coming out of the shower in the morning and he loses all capacity to speak," Pinako cackled. "Yesterday as I was coming upstairs I saw him turn around and lock himself in the upstairs linen closet to avoid her."

"Are you sure he wasn't just measuring his height?" asked Al. It really wasn't that odd to see Ed runing off to the upstairs linen closet after all.

As Edward continued to trace the channels of sap in the gnarled old cherry tree in the yard with dancing golden alchemical light, Winry yawned and stumbled out of the front door.

"So here's where everybody is," she said. Following everyone's eyes out to the yard where they were watching Ed, Winry gasped. "What is Ed _doing_ to that tree? Gah. He is such a pain!"

Not waiting to hear a response, Winry jumped off the porch and ran toward him screaming, "Hey alchemy geek, get your hands off of my tree! What do you think you're doing anyway?"

Edward heard her approaching and smirked a little. He had just about gotten the hang of removing foreign matter and blockages from plants, and was starting to wonder what else was possible. He decided to try a little experiment that would hopefully have the added benefit of impressing the pants off of little miss leave-my-half-dead-tree-alone over there. Er, strike that part about the pants coming off. Was she even wearing pants? Ed turned his head a little bit so that he could surreptitiously check. Winry had just come out of the workshop and was wearing her beige coveralls tied at the waist. Did those count as pants? He turned his focus back to the tree before his thoughts got any further out of hand.

Winry slowed to a stop as she came up to where Ed was standing. He seemed to be focusing pretty intently on the cherry tree. Now that she thought about it, Winry decided that to an outsider this tree would seem like an eyesore that should have been chopped down years ago. In truth, Pinako had mentioned having it removed last fall, but Winry had protested, remembering all of the springs of her childhood when she had played under its blossoms. She started to explain this to Ed, but was quickly shushed.

Before Winry got a chance to get too worked up, Edward started drawing new energy into the tree. He wasn't entirely sure where it was coming from. It definitely seemed to come from the ground, but also perhaps from the air and from the warmth of the sun. Oddly, the strain on his body that he felt when transmuting objects was not present. Edward made a mental note to get Al to ask Hoenheim for a technical explanation later. He channeled the new energy into the tree, and was rewarded by sensing the expansion of the tree's few meager branches. New shoots began to spring from them as Edward carefully coaxed life into the tree.

Suddenly the cherry tree was covered in new growth, budding on branches that had not existed moments before. And then, enchantingly, the thousands of buds opened their petals and within moments the entire tree was covered in pink blossoms. Edward exhaled loudly and dropped his hands, making a show of standing back to survey his work, but really angling himself to see Winry's reaction.

Winry's small gasp was overshadowed by Al's cry of "Wow brother!" but Edward could tell she was affected by the transformation. She looked back and forth between Ed and the tree for a few moments, finally walking forward to touch the pink softness of a blossom-laden branch. Looking very seriously into Ed's golden eyes, Winry said, "Is this real? Is it going to go away?"

Edward scratched his head and replied, "Um, I think so. I mean, it's definitely real, but I think the change should be permanent. It might need a few checkups to make sure it's getting everything it needs. It's a bit late in the season for cherry blossoms, but it should return to a normal cycle once the blossoms fall in a couple of weeks."

Winry slowly smiled. "It's beautiful Ed."

She got to her hands and knees and despite the wet grass climbed under the tree branches to lay back and look up at them. Edward was thankful for this, as it meant that Winry didn't see his smile of pride and the blush that was creeping down his neck.

The moment was interrupted by Den's barking. She raced down the road to alert the family to the presence of a visitor and escort that person to the house. Since it was after the Rockbell's normal business hours, the visitor was quite likely an emergency patient. Both Hoenheim and Pinako immediately rose from their seats and started up the gravel path to find out what was needed.

Everyone froze for a moment when the man walking up the drive came into view around some high bushes. Amestrian blue signaled clearly that this man was military personnel. Edward knew he should go up and accept whatever it was that the soldier was here to give him, but he couldn't stop looking at Winry under the cherry tree. After determining that the man approaching the house was from the military she had closed her eyes, perhaps in an attempt to ignore him or in hopes of his purpose in coming here being anything other than the obvious one. But really, why else would a soldier approach the Rockbell home in the evening hours other than to call away the Fullmetal Alchemist? Try as she might, Winry couldn't think of a single plausible reason.

The soldier turned toward Hoenheim, seeing him as a bit too old to be the famed alchemist, but still the most likely candidate to receive military communication.

"Lieutenant Colonel Edward Elric?" asked Private Manaird Lawton.

Hoenheim merely inclined his head toward the huge late-blossoming cherry tree. So overcome was the soldier by the spectacular sight that he did not immediately see the golden-haired boy walking slowly towards him. The Fullmetal Alchemist wore none of the usual pieces of his trademark outfit. The long red coat with the Alchemist emblem was flung over a chair in Edward's upstairs bedroom, and his white shirt and suspenders holding up plain brown trousers made him look much like any country lad. Lawton glanced questioningly at Hoenheim once more. Receiving a nod, he stepped toward Edward and saluted.

Ed halfheartedly saluted back, scowling at the man as if daring him to make a comment on his appearance.

"So I'm a Lieutenant Colonel now? Nice of them to let me know."

"I have your promotion papers here along with a summons from Major General Mustang to report for duty in Central next Monday, June 7th. He adds here that suitable accommodations will be provided for you and anyone who comes with you."

With that, Lawton handed two envelopes to Edward and saluted.

"Excuse my haste, Lieutenant Colonel, but I must hurry to make my train back to Eastern Headquarters."

Edward saluted back, a little more precisely this time, and turned to go into the house. He was followed by Al, Pinako, and Hoenheim, but Winry remained under the cherry tree, eyes closed, breathing in the calming scent of the blossoms.

Edward sank to the couch and opened the first envelope, merely scanning its contents. This was the notification of his promotion to lieutenant colonel for outstanding service to Amestris in the field of alchemy, and it was fairly standard reading. The figure representing his new salary did get a slight eyebrow raise from him, as he was already used to having more money than he knew what to do with. Most of it sat in the bank as he'd never bothered to buy or rent a place to live, opting instead to take advantage of military lodgings. He briefly wondered if he should ask Granny if she wanted any money to help pay for Al's expenses, but figured he would just get smacked for insinuating that their business was not doing well. Indeed, there had been plenty of business since he'd been staying with the Rockbell's, and once Granny convinced Hoenheim to start charging proper rates, he would easily be able to care for himself and Al.

Though Edward had heard Hoenheim speaking to Pinako about setting up his own clinic in Reisembol, he still felt wary about leaving Al with someone who had always been Edward's definition of undependable. At least if they were all together, Winry, Al, Granny and Hoenheim, they should be able to take care of each other fairly well. With a twinge at the thought that he would no longer be part of the household, Edward took a deep breath and opened the second envelope. The summons were very succinct and contained little information outside of what Private Lawton had told them all. Tipping the envelope a bit further, Edward found that there was a small paper folded and closed with Mustang's seal. Upon opening it, he found a note in Mustang's careless scrawl.

_Hey Fullmetal,_

_Sorry for calling you back, but we have need of you back here in Central. Don't feel like you have to leave everyone behind though. We'd be happy to find Al a place in one of Central's best private schools, and we'd be thrilled if your mechanic would accept some contract work for the military. No pressure though Fullmetal. See you in a week!_

_Major General Roy Mustang_

Though he was well aware that the personal note was well-intentioned, it pissed Edward off to think that everyone in Central was sitting around feeling bad for him having to leave his hometown, but not bad enough to let him out. Hell, they wouldn't even politely offer him a future chance to be rid of the military. At this point no one was even pretending that that was a possibility. The thought of a lifetime of answering to Colonel--no, Major General--Bastard was enough to cause some serious depression.

Ed quickly stuffed the note into his shirt pocket, hoping those watching him hadn't noticed anything in his reaction. Pinako, Hoenheim, and Al seemed to be expecting some sort of announcement from him, and he was becoming unnerved by their stares. Al was looking up at him with huge eyes, curious as to whether or not he would be making the journey to Central with his brother as he apparently had so many times in the past five years.

"Mustang wants me back on June 7th, a week from tomorrow," Edward said needlessly, heading out the front door.

Ed marched up to the cherry tree that Winry still lay beneath and announced, "Winry, you need to buy Al a kitten. I'll give you money in the morning. Don't let him talk you into more than one though, the last thing you need is seven hundred cats terrorizing Den."

Winry's hand shot out from under the tree, tugging Ed under the branches by his pant leg. He crawled under and knelt by the trunk of the tree, watching Winry carefully. She smiled a little.

"That was the last thing I expected you to march out here and say to me," she laughed.

Gathering all of her courage, Winry reached out and grabbed Edward's warm left hand. He looked startled for a second, then his face became blank, totally unreadable. Thankfully Winry didn't need to look at his face to know what he was thinking.

"You aren't going to let us come with you."

He shook his head. "I need to do this alone."

Winry sighed. "You always think you do," she whispered, but didn't bother to argue any further. Instead she let herself enjoy holding hands with Ed under a canopy of cherry blossoms.

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A/N: Thanks to any who reviewed! I appreciate it lots. Again, please let me know what you think!

(Edited for a couple of glaring errors I noticed. Nothing big though. )


	6. Chapter 6

I don't own FMA!

Chapter 6

Again, Edward Elric sat on a train, headed for Central City, this time watching rain beat against the window. He thought back to his life of the past few years, during which he may have spent almost half as much time on trains as off of them. It wasn't that he'd loved riding on trains back then--it had still gotten tedious and annoying--but now, there was no goal driving him, no cause that propelled him forward to new places and events. Saying goodbye to Winry this time had been different than it ever had before. Every time he came with Al over the past five years to get his automail repaired, Ed was always focused on the next step he would take toward getting Al's body back. This time, with Al restored to his body and gaining weight and confidence every day, Edward found there was nothing inside him pressing him forward. Sure, he had orders that told him to be in Central that afternoon, but Edward's thoughts were not accepting that as sufficient fuel to depart. Instead they rebelliously lingered on those he would leave behind. His very being felt cut off from Al, Winry, Granny, even Hoenheim (though mostly his capacity to teach Edward Xingian alchemy) in a way that he hadn't expected. Edward could hardly believe how difficult it had been to turn to board the train. He even looked back over his shoulder--something he would never ordinarily do.

Winry had insisted on hugging him, to his great dismay. She grumbled about how silly he was being. Of course he was getting a hug! What, were they strangers who'd never spoken or something? Ed scowled and tried to pretend that he was just embarrassed by the attention, but when he settled down in his seat on the train he had to admit to himself that he didn't want her to hug him because he didn't want to have to let her go. She certainly wasn't going to do it. And so they stood there, hugging, in front of the conductor and the other passengers and Granny and Al and that bastard Hoenheim with his smug little smirk, and instead of being able to appreciate the gesture, or even give in to feeling that uncomfortable, confusing (yet still intriguing) sensation that contact with Winry seemed to bring out lately, Edward had to yell, scream, plead with himself just to let her go.

It had been easier than he'd feared, telling Al that he had to go to Central alone. It hurt to confirm once more that the brother he knew so well, his constant companion of the last five years, really had devolved into a ten year old child who was willing to go along with what his older brother and father told him was best. Al had been quick to point out that the summons had made provisions for additional people, but Edward shot that down by telling Al it was standard procedure, wording mostly intended for married officers. This was true, and Edward certainly was not about to mention the note from Mustang. He also added that pets were strictly forbidden in all military dormitories, and Al's brand new kitten Tyge would be left with no one to care for it.

The kitten was, if Edward did say so himself, a stroke of genius in getting Al wrapped around his little finger. Al had always looked up to his brother, expecting to be lead into every challenge by him, but it was clear that the new difference in their ages and experience left Al somewhat intimidated by his brother who was so powerful and withdrawn. Though Ed at first tried to claim that purchasing Tyge was Winry's idea, that lie was quickly seen through. Al was touched that his cranky brother who so often complained about Al's love of animals would go out of his way to make sure that Al got the cuddly pet he'd always craved. The sensitivity to touch that was almost crippling to Al when he first regained his body soon mellowed to a pleasurable feeling, and Al would spend much of his day reading alchemy textbooks and stroking Tyge's downy fur. The boy could not conceive of leaving this wonder behind, and so he stayed with Hoenheim and Winry, only suffering a vaguely nagging feeling that somehow he should be doing something else.

Edward's last days in Reisembol had been idyllic. He sparred with Hoenheim in the morning, ate his favorite meals prepared by Al and Winry, helped diagnose and observed the treatment of patients, and walked by the river in the evenings with Winry and Al. Edward was rewarded for this program of exercise and bountiful nutrition over the past months with three and a half additional centimeters of height. Edward was now clearly taller than Winry, even without his elevator shoes, and this gratified him immensely. He never brought it up with her, not wanting to jinx his good luck, but on the day he realized he'd surpassed her he made a special notation on the wall of the upstairs linen closet in silent celebration.

Disembarking the train at Central Station, Edward half expected to be met by Mustang, but neither he, Hawkeye, nor Armstrong were waiting. After waiting about in the rain to collect his trunk, which contained several special texts borrowed from Hoenheim on Xingian alchemy, Edward was approached by two unfamiliar officers who gave their names as Kilroy and Dunston who told him they would take care of bringing his luggage to the dormitory after delivering him to the Major General. It took Edward a moment to realize that they were referring to Mustang, and then wondered if the bastard had put them up to saying the title "Major General" as many times as possible in the short time it took to have him standing at said bastard's office doors.

Not bothering to knock, lest Mustang get the false impression that the upgrade in office suite had impressed Edward into growing some respect, he entered directly. He found the Major General alone, glaring at a pile of papers with the back end of a gilded fountain pen in his mouth. Mustang looked up quickly, and his glare softened instantly, letting in the affection he felt for this particular junior officer shine through for a brief moment. Before Edward could get embarrassed, Mustang's usual slightly mocking gaze was in place.

"Ah, Fullmetal. How's the family?" he said, in that patented patronizing tone of his. "It's really too bad you wouldn't let any of them come with."

"Everyone's fine, happily settled in Reisembol. _I'm_ not the kind of guy who's into dragging people away from their homes for my own convenience," retorted Edward, not afraid to let the major general know that though he was back at his beck and call, he wasn't happy about it.

"Ah, is that a bit of resentment I sense, Fullmetal?" asked Roy lightly. "Well, I had wanted to save this for once you'd gotten settled, but really, perhaps it's better to get everything out in the open. Please sit down."

Edward just snorted and walked away from the desk toward the floor-to-ceiling windows of the office to regard the dreary day.

"We need you. That much is should be abundantly clear, since we recalled you and you're not exactly a bundle of sunshine to be around. We are entering a new stage of the game, Fullmetal. There's still plenty of dangerous messes to clean up, but on top of all of that we've got to worry about public relations in a whole new way. People like you. Generally not once they've met you personally, of course, but you do have an excellent reputation as 'The People's Alchemist'. I'm not going to pretend that we're not going to try to capitalize on that. However, in return for your cooperation, there may be the opportunity to improve your position as well."

At this, Edward's snort was louder.

"Mustang, I would think you'd have realized by now that I have no desire to climb the ranks like you do."

"No, your desire is to get out, and that's what I'd like to offer you, if all goes as planned: a way out that is beneficial to everybody. Our goal here is to reform our political system, to make it truly a representative government. I hope to one day lead this country as President, and if certain factors line up in our favor, this is not an unreasonable goal. Though members of parliament will be elected officials, the President of Amestris will still hold the power to appoint government officials, including the governors of Amestrian districts. It would likely be well-received by the people if as President I released the Alchemist of the People from military service to instead serve as a governor, say, of the 9th district. Returning after years of dedication to the state to rule the district where he was raised...that would make an excellent story indeed."

Edward had tried to remove all emotion from his face during this speech, but his naturally expressive eyes could not hide the skepticism and incredulity that he felt.

"You want to make me governor? Of Reisembol and Rush Valley, and isn't Dublith in the 9th district too?"

"Why not? The ninth has several decent-sized towns, Rush Valley having the highest population, but the coastal access route through the desert is in the 10th district so you wouldn't have to worry about that, it doesn't actually border any other countries so there is little military presence--you know the area. Relatively peaceful. You probably wouldn't even have to sit inside an office that frequently. And you would have the added benefit of knowing that no one ambitious is getting a hold of it."

Edward was still a little taken aback that his supposed "reward" for being a good little state alchemist for the next who knows how long would be having to govern an entire district. Even if it was one of the smaller and less important ones, it seemed like a lot of responsibility from where Ed was standing.

"It may seem a bit much now," Roy chuckled, anticipating Edward's thoughts, "but once you get through the upcoming assignments I'm sure running a small district will seem like a piece of cake."

"And how long are these upcoming assignments expected to run?" questioned Edward, not wanting to commit to a course of action without knowing the time-frame.

"Look Fullmetal, I am your commanding officer, you are my subordinate. I have the right to ask you to do all of this anyway, but I remember a time when you told me you'd repay me once I became president. Aren't you the kind of man who repays his debts? I'd like to think that I am. This will take time. It will be months before we can organize a parliamentary election. It will be even longer before we can start to think about preparing for a presidential election, and who knows how much time will be needed to actually get sworn in and to stabilize things after that. This is a process that will take at the very least a year or two, very likely more. With your help, perhaps we can get it done faster. I'd like to think there will be good things on the horizon for all of us."

Edward looked out of the window at the muddy parade grounds and the few sopping trees that lined them. Could he stand to dedicate his life for an unspecified amount of time to a quest that was not his own? He could not deny that he and Al had had Mustang's support all the while they had been struggling to restore their bodies. Would he be able to support Mustang's goals in turn?

"I said I'd pay you back, and I will, once you become president of a democratic Amestris. I will support you in this, and do whatever it takes to make this happen, but I have to warn you Mustang, if you turn from this path--"

"Hawkeye will kill me."

The words seemed to form a joke, but Mustang's tone was so serious that Edward just turned and stared at him.

"It was an agreement we made many years ago. Few know about it. It was obvious at the time that I desired power, but that I seemed ill-equipped to handle the responsibility it entailed. The only way I could think of to gain trust was to place my life in the hands of the most truly moral person I knew. If I turn from the path of creating a representative democracy and seek to become a dictator, I would never live to see the following sunrise. That is at the foundation of all of these plans, and I thought that you should know before we go any further."

Edward watched Mustang's downcast eyes for a moment, and then turned away toward the window once again. He felt uncomfortable, as if he had just intruded on a private moment. At the same time, it was gratifying that Mustang trusted him enough to let him see a part of the history and motivation pushing him along his path. It was also reassuring to know that Mustang's life was on the line in the struggle to restructure the Amestrian government, since if Roy was anything, he was a survivor.

With a wicked grin at that thought, the Fullmetal Alchemist turned to his commanding officer and said, "That settles it then."

Mustang merely nodded, feeling that for once he would rather not know what thought put that slightly manic tinge in Edward's golden eyes. He walked to his office door, barked an order, and within moments Falman, Fuery, Breda, Alex Louis Armstrong and Sheska the librarian swarmed into his large office. Edward leaned against the wall between two of the windows and exchanged greetings with the group. Everyone seemed happy to see him. Almost a little too happy. The level of excitement in the room seemed a bit high for the cast of characters, and this was quickly explained by and unwitting Sheska.

"Oh great Edward! You're finally back so we can get on with the Major General's plans!"

Ah, so everything had been on hold while he was gone. Edward was not quite sure he liked the thought of himself figuring so prominently in Mustang's schemes. Before he could progress much further in that direction, Edward's thoughts were interrupted by Mustang pompously calling the group to order.

"Listen up! We've got foreign dignitaries scheduled to arrive from Drachma a week from Monday. That gives us very little time to prepare to receive them. I expect all of you to report here tomorrow morning at 8 sharp for some emergency diplomatic training. Our main competition for the attention of the Drachma party will come from the members of parliament who are chomping at the bit to gain invites to our social events. With the recent mistrust of the military, it would be disastrous to just refuse them. Thus, it is imperative that we make the best possible impression. Colonel Armstrong will assist us tomorrow, along with a couple of special guests."

"Excellent, Major General! As a member of the Armstrong family, I have been trained in the art of diplomacy passed down in our family for generations! I will be honored to impart what foundational knowledge I can to my fellow officers."

Edward did not like the sound of this. Foreign dignitaries? Social events? And did he even want to know what the hell "Emergency Diplomatic Training" was? He was beginning to feel like he might have been too hasty in going along with Mustang's plans. Sure, Edward knew that he would have to anyway, but he could have put up more of a fuss and let them know he had some boundaries. Boundaries like not caring which fork was which and what was the proper way to address a duke. Those kinds of boundaries were very important to him. What happened to "The People's Alchemist" anyway?

By the time Edward tuned back in to the conversation, Mustang and Breda were going back and forth, talking about the best ways to educate the public about the political changes.

"Sir, I have to tell you that it is just not going to work to try to officially take over the press. Since the fall of Bradley's regime, countless small newspapers have sprung up, and it would just be too large a project to try to round them all up. In fact, I think it could be seen as a good-faith gesture if we turned the major papers like the Central Daily and the Amerstrian Herald over to private control."

"Breda, I can see how that would look good, but if we have no reliable way to communicate with the public, how do we know that they are getting the right idea about political changes? What if they don't have access to information on parliamentary candidates other than skewed stories favoring whoever paid off the editor?"

The two men fell silent for a moment, and something prompted Edward to speak up.

"Um, sir," Edward still had a little trouble getting that word out in reference to Mustang even after all these years, "It may be a stupid idea, but, when I was in Lior, the fake priest there had set up some stupid-ass radio program to broadcast his lies to all the people. But once we confronted him, Al and I were able to broadcast him threatening me and get the people to finally understand that he was a greedy bastard, but only after hearing it in his own voice."

Everyone seemed to be waiting for Edward to get to the point. In Amestris, radio was nothing new, but was only used for short-range transmission, usually of music or wacko religious stuff. He gulped, and hurried on,

"What I'm saying is, why don't you build a country-wide radio system, with offices in each district, and broadcast government news and interviews with important people. That way you can get the truth out the way you want it to be told. Radio broadcast stations don't really involve that much equipment...I could probably set one up at least as good as Cornello had in about fifteen minutes. Transmuting a large radio tower should give us enough range to reach most major cities."

Mustang looked at Breda, Breda looked at Mustang. They both turned to Ed with these matching, rather evil smiles.

"Ha ha!," said Mustang. "They will have to listen to me now!"

"That would be perfect!" said Breda. "We could set it up as a National Radio System, our gift to the people, and in the off-hours they could air local news and other programing."

The meeting continued, with everyone putting in their thoughts on how best to use the radio system to help their cause. After a few minutes, Second Lieutenant Kilroy came to the door to inform the Major General that he had an appointment with General Grumman in half an hour.

"I'm going to bring this up with him at our meeting, and hopefully secure funding before the day is out!" said Mustang gleefully.

"Oh and Kilroy!" shouted Mustang after his petite aide. "Could you come back in here for a moment?"

Kilroy rolled her eyes for a brief second before doing the bidding of her vexing superior officer. She entered the room and stood by the Major General's desk, waiting for whatever irritating order he would issue next. Instead of addressing her, Mustang turned to Edward nonchalantly.

"So, Fullmetal, how does it feel to not be the shortest officer in the room?"

"WHY YOU--" started Edward, only to be drowned out by the restrained guffaws or outright laughter of his fellow officers.

"If that is all, _sir_," said Second Lieutenant Kilroy icily, before exiting the room.

"Ooh, scary," said Fuery.

"Yeah boss, you'd better watch out or she'll be spitting in your coffee--or worse."

Mustang waved his hand dismissively, apparently in too high spirits to worry about retaliation from Kilroy.

"After the stunts Hawkeye has pulled to keep me in line over the years, I think I can take whatever this one can throw at me," Mustang bragged.

Edward stopped fuming, looked around the room, and said, "Oh yeah. Where is Hawkeye, anyway?"

Everyone stopped laughing, looked at Mustang, and looked away, their glances hard to read. However, one and all were clearly eager to hear Mustang's response.

The Major General just glanced at Edward with that practiced casual gaze and said mildly, "She's doing very well, and I'm sure she'll be in to greet you tomorrow."

With that, the meeting was dismissed. 

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

A/N: This chapter was very hard for me to write somehow, but I hope it turned out alright! Please let me know what you think, as reviewing is better than candy! (Well, most candy anyway.)

Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed, I appreciate your comments so much!


	7. Chapter 7

I don't own FMA. Also, sometimes Edward likes to cuss. (That's a warning.)

Chapter 7

Edward had thought that after his meeting with Mustang and Co. he would be free to settle into his dorm room or perhaps hit the library, but instead he was accosted by Breda and Fuery, the latter of the two armed with a comb and some hair gel. After much shouting and many threats from Edward, the two officers decided that nothing could be done about his antenna on such short notice, and instead turned their attention to fussing his his clothes, polishing his pocket watch, and telling him to shut up and be good.

After this ridiculous ritual, Breda told him as they rushed through the high-ceilinged halls of Central Headquarters that as soon as they took care of one little thing, he could get into the car that Fuery was bringing round and head to the dormitory. Edward looked at Breda like he'd lost his mind.

"Breda, the dormitory's two blocks away. If I'd just walked out of the exit we passed three minutes ago I could be in my room by now. Why in the world would Fuery be getting a car?"

"Trust me, Fullmetal, you'll want the car."

They were swiftly approaching the ornate double doors of the front entrance to the building. Breda swung around in front of Ed, blocking the doorway and bringing them both to a halt.

"This is a direct order from the Major General. Don't scowl. Say you're very happy to be back in Central, and decline to comment on anything else. Smile if you possibly can. Don't slouch. This is more important than you know, Fullmetal."

With these bizarre but serious words of advice, Breda nodded toward the soldier at the door and grabbed Ed's arm at the elbow. Edward's stomach started to sink and then proceed to do somersaults in the depths of his body. As soon as Breda had hauled him close enough to the door to see out the noise turned from the low buzzing to frantic shouts as people called questions out at him and at least ten flashbulbs turned threateningly in his direction.

Breda spoke quickly in Edward's ear. "Remember. Just say how happy you are to be here, smile, and then get in the car. I'll be right behind you."

With that, he let go of Ed's shoulder and pushed him out into the fray. Now Edward could hear the questions being shouted at him from both sides, but he could also see that soldiers were holding the reporters and other onlookers back, and he could make out Fuery behind the wheel of the car at the curb. It was really only fifteen or twenty feet away. He could do this. So while cursing under his breath and marveling that there were so many newspapers in Central all of a sudden, Ed forced himself to stand up straight. Though he couldn't quite manage a smile, the resulting smirk looked rather dashing to the photographers, and they snapped away, dazzling him with their flashbulbs. Anyone who actually knew Ed would recognize his expression as one of extreme discomfort. It was sort of like the face he made right before getting the nerves reattached after automail maintenance. Not quite pain, but ready for it.

"Lieutenant Colonel Elric! What really happened in the takeover of Bradley's regime?"

"Is it true that you uncovered his research on human transmutation?"

"What really caused the explosions in the southern sector of the city last April?"

"What are your plans now that you are back in Central?"

Deciding that that last question was close enough, Edward said, "I'm very happy to be back in Central and er, to be working toward rebuilding..."

He couldn't quite think of anything to say to finish that thought, so he flashed the crowd a nervous smile and gave a wave. Immediately after, he ran for the car door which was held open for him and dove inside. Breda swiftly followed him in and shut the door. Once the car was moving and Ed's panting had slowed a bit, Breda said,

"Well Fullmetal, that could have been worse. Next time, though, try to have a complete sentence planned out before you say anything. I bet we're going to read tomorrow about ten different things the government's planning on 'rebuilding,'" he chuckled.

Edward looked at him in horror, having stopped listening as soon as he'd heard the dreaded words "next time." He exploded,

"What do you mean, 'next time'? There's no fucking way I'm ever jumping into a situation like that again. The only way you got me out there was by not telling me what was happening!"

Breda sighed. Mustang had told him that they had Edward's full cooperation, but apparently neither had really addressed what that meant.

"You told Mustang that you were with us, right?"

"Well yes but I didn't think I was signing myself up to have my picture taken by a bunch of ravening wolves!"

"Fullmetal, you've got to understand. Now that Bradley and the homonculi have been destroyed, there's no one enemy to fight. Sure there's still some scum to weed out of the military and other positions of power, but the battles now are for public opinion. Like you said, we're here to rebuild, but no matter how much alchemy and strength we have, changing the political system to a representative democracy is only going to happen when the people understand it and accept it. The most valuable thing you can do is to help them understand, as best you can, and where they can't understand, your word as a public figure has to carry them through. People are going to see the paper and say, 'oh, the Fullmetal Alchemist came back to Central City, maybe conditions aren't so bad there after all.' And that is worth winning a thousand fistfights."

Edward shifted in his seat, uncomfortable with the idea that his very presence could mean something to people he'd never met. His whole life he'd been devoted to his mother, then to Al, and to the study of alchemy (though even that was in the service of his two loved ones) and had never given much heed to others. There were a few people who had earned a semi-familial status like Winry and Pinako, and to a lesser extent Gracia Hughes, Hawkeye, and maybe even Mustang. That was pretty much it, however. While he made friends and enemies wherever he traveled, Ed never gave much thought to what those people thought of him. Edward always tried to do what was right, mostly so that his brother wouldn't be disappointed in him, but he thought, not for the last time, that it was hard to know how to do the right thing for a bunch of people he'd never met. It was a responsibility he didn't want.

Seeing Edward's somber expression, Breda continued.

"The things we're going to ask you to do may not seem important to you. In fact, a lot of people are betting against you going along with some of it. But believe me, even when things seem stupid and trivial, we're trying to gain the trust of the greatest number of people that we can, so that we can help them to stand on their own two feet, and move forward."

Edward scowled at Breda, distinctly unamused that his speech had come back to haunt him. A sudden thought brought a smile to his face, and before he could stop himself he laughed a little. Breda just raised his eyebrow as Ed self-consciously pointed to his left leg with his metal hand.

"Did you know I got it back?" he said.

Breda smiled, realizing that his comment had been especially appropriate.

"No, I didn't know. But that'll come in handy, sooner than you know. Look, go inside, get to bed early tonight. Tomorrow you're going to have to do a lot of things I doubt you'll be thrilled about. Regardless, I'm gonna give you some advice. If you want to throw a fit and make sure that Mustang and all the rest continue to see you as a little kid, then fine. But I've noticed that you've grown a bit taller since we last met, and if you want people to start respecting you for it, I'd suggest sucking it up. Learn what they want you to and do it better than they did themselves. Beat him at his own game, and Mustang will have nothing on you."

Edward opened the door to the car, which had been idling in front of the dormitory as Breda finished speaking. He called goodnight to Breda and Fuery, and ran up the stairs to locate his room.

-o-o-o-

The next morning Edward awoke early for once, and was showered and dressed by the time Second Lieutenant Kilroy arrived to escort him to Mustang's office. Upon entering the spacious room, Edward groaned inwardly. There were three rows of desk-chairs assembled behind a blackboard. This did not bode well for Edward, who though deemed an alchemic genius at the tender age of twelve had never been better than a mediocre student in a classroom setting.

Before long, Mustang and his team were settled in their seats, listening to Lieutenant Colonel Armstrong drone on about the Aristocratic structures of Drachma and Areugo. No one but Edward seemed to be surprised to see Gracia Hughes show up for their practical session at ten and immediately begin on the principles of dining with members of a constitutional monarchy. Since Edward's etiquette training had ended before it had begun with the death of his mother and the down-to-earth childrearing methods of Pinako and Izumi, his patience wore thin before that of any of his peers.

"What the hell is this crap??!" screamed Edward in sheer frustration after two hours of table manners that brought them through the basics of social dining in Areugo and Drachma. He had opted to get some air with the rest of the group as Gracia and Armstrong set up the office for the next portion of the class. "Aren't we freaking ALCHEMISTS? Don't most people wish they could transmute shit? Why the FUCK are we screwing around, waiting for the right moment to pass horseradish sauce to the stupid princess?"

Though few members of their motley etiquette class had anything to say to this outburst, Breda, who had been participating along with the rest, rolled his eyes at Edward's outspoken comments, effectively reminding the Fullmetal Alchemist of the previous day's experience and the subsequent talk they'd had. Edward suddenly felt ashamed of his lack of patience. Nobody else in the group was loving this. Fuery, Falman, Breda, Brosh and Mustang were not the kind of men who enjoyed petty social niceties. Second Lieutenant Kilroy had made it perfectly clear earlier in the day that this type of activity was not her cup of tea either. Edward bit his tongue and resolved to do as Breda had advised in the future. Mustang couldn't quite bring himself to lecture Edward, since his rebellious thoughts ran along similar lines, but instead called his officers back in for another round of social graces.

The desks and table settings that they had been using earlier had been cleared. Instead, several wide mirrors were set up along one wall of the room. To everyone's surprise, the loud groan of dismay upon seeing the heading "principles of ballroom dancing" on the blackboard came, not from Edward, but from Fuery.

"I hate dancing," he muttered in response to everyone's questioning eyes.

"Well, we're going to try to make it easy for you to get by," said Gracia kindly, stepping into the room in a leotard and tights with a flowing skirt across her hips. "Now everyone, line up where you can see yourself in the mirror. First we're going to warm up a bit and get used to the basic steps."

Edward was determined to remain beyond reproach, and stubbornly refused to look at anyone else as he copied Gracia's movements. After a while, they paused to watch Lieutenant Colonel Armstrong execute a flawless waltz with Gracia.

As if on cue, there was a knock at the door. After receiving permission to enter, the door was opened by a harried-looking Sheska, who was wearing a dancer's skirt much like Gracia's, and was exasperatedly urging someone behind her to follow her into the room. The normally timid librarian rolled her eyes to the ceiling and swept them around the room. When her gaze fell on Mustang, it narrowed into a rather heated glare. This certainly had Edward's attention as he waited with the rest of the "class" for the mysterious figure to enter the room.

After being bodily hauled into the office by Sheska, Hawkeye realized that she was now visible to the occupants of the room and straightened her posture, determined to retain whatever dignity she might have left before her former coworkers. She wore a dark green dress with a skirt that flowed to mid-calf. Unlike Sheska and Gracia, Hawkeye's dress was suitable for street wear.

It had been almost a week since Hawkeye had turned in her discharge papers, and no one from the office had seen her, save for Mustang who no one really wanted to talk to about the situation. Fuery had finally asked where she was since he'd received no response when he'd stopped by her apartment the previous evening. Mustang had just turned on an incredibly smug expression and said that _Riza_ was staying with her grandfather for a little while. While this was true, for Hawkeye it was anything but a cozy family visit. She was in fact being reinserted into a charm-school hell that she thought she'd escaped when she'd joined the academy at age 16. Her hair had been curled, her nails had been painted, and her feet ached constantly from the high heels that made up her entire selection of shoes.

Though she longed to see all of her colleagues at HQ, Hawkeye was terribly embarrassed by her prissy appearance and worried about what the others would think when they saw her. Would they see her as having sold out in order to gain a powerful position? After her fateful dinner with Mustang, Hawkeye had been struck by the uncharacteristic earnestness of his tone and, with the help of five or six glasses of wine, said yes to his proposal. In the harsh light of the days that followed, Hawkeye had seen little of that earnest and respectful attitude from Mustang, who would come by the house frequently to "see General Grumman." The whole thing was beginning to seem like an awful joke. When Gracia had suggested that she come by to take part in the officers' dance class, Hawkeye had refused immediately. As Gracia proceeded to calmly explain that it would be an easier way to get to see Edward and the rest of the crew while they were not focused on her, but on the task at hand, Hawkeye eventually relented. The deal was sealed when Gracia mentioned that Sheska had told her that she'd gotten a hold of the garter holsters that Riza had asked for once she realized she was about to be confined to skirts for the majority of the time.

As everyone gazed at Hawkeye in shock, she self-consciously took her coat off and sat off to the side of the room on a desk. At the last minute she remembered to cross her legs at the ankles--no need for everyone to find out about her new holsters immediately. Upon a bit of reflection, Riza acknowledged that it might be better if Mustang were made aware of the fact that she was still armed and dangerous sooner rather than later.

"Riza, why don't you take off those shoes--they aren't really appropriate for dancing--and try the steps with Edward," said Gracia, doing her best to spare Riza the embarrassment and Roy the satisfaction of the two of them dancing together in front of everyone. Hopefully it could at least be put off until their stormy relationship stabilized a bit. Gracia had been the recipient of several late-night angst-filled phone calls from General Grumman's residence after Riza's staff had gone to bed. Hawkeye always apologized for calling, but continued to do so as her fear of having made a terrible mistake with her life continued to plague her. Gracia patiently listened to the former officer rattle off several plans about escaping to a far-off corner of Amestria and enlisting under an assumed name before Hawkeye got up the nerve to tell her confidante what was really bothering her. Usually it was about 25 percent the awful "coach" who General Grumman had brought in to "refresh" Riza's memory on how to act like a lady and 75 percent Roy's ridiculously callous and smug behavior.

In Gracia's opinion Roy was as uncertain about how to proceed as Riza. They had spent such a long time sublimating their feelings for each other so that they could have a comfortable professional relationship that it was naturally quite difficult to express genuine affection. Whenever Roy tried to do what he would do with any of the other women he had been involved with over the years his flirting fell flat as it reminded both of them of the years they had spent denying their feelings for each other. Instead, Roy seemed to settle into the unproductive attitude that he had already accomplished his goals as far as Riza was concerned and could now proceed to take her for granted. Though Gracia had little doubt that this was just bravado on Roy's part, Riza seemed uncharacteristically unsure of herself where their relationship was concerned. Hopefully something would happen to jolt the two out of this pattern.

Hawkeye gratefully slipped off her shoes and padded over to where Edward was standing, looking at her with huge golden eyes full of concern with his mouth slightly open. She smiled, thinking how childlike Edward could still be. He had never seen her like this, and everyone's attention was probably making him worry that something was wrong. Hawkeye smiled a bit wider at him, to reassure him that nothing was wrong. As she approached him, her smile faltered a little and Edward smirked a bit, knowing she was realizing that she had to tilt her head just the slightest bit upwards to look him in the eyes with her shoes off. Sure, he still had a couple centimeters or so added to his height with his own shoes, but it didn't make the moment any less gratifying.

"Hi Edward," said Hawkeye, rolling her eyes at practically being able to see him calculating millimeter differences and rates of growth in his head.

"Hey First Lieutenant," he said nonchalantly, then with more concern he whispered, "what did they do to you this time?"

She heaved a sigh, threw a glare across the room to where an over-interested Mustang was straining to hear their conversation, and whispered back, "Even I'm not sure...but it's just Riza Hawkeye now. I'll tell you about it later."

Gracia had been giving some instructions to the rest of the group and had sent Sheska over to Falman and had taken her place with Fuery. She nodded to Colonel Armstrong, who started the music. It was a rather sedate waltz, Edward noted with relief. Though it was a long time ago, he and Al had been taught the simple dances that were popular in Reisembol by their mother. Thankfully Edward remembered enough to get him started, and was quick enough to pick up the movements demonstrated by the other dancers. After all, he'd had plenty of training with Izumi that had consisted of copying a movement and then practicing over and over until he'd thought he would pass out. In comparison, dancing wasn't that horrifying. A little embarrassing, maybe, but everyone else was being forced to do it too. Edward glanced over at where Mustang was supposed to be dancing with Second Lieutenant Kilroy, who just then gave a gasp of pain as Mustang trod on her foot.

Hawkeye was surprised to say the least by Edward's dancing. She had half-suspected that Gracia had sent her over as the least likely to make a scene if Edward stepped on her foot with that metal leg of his. Instead, they were gracefully twirling around the rest of the class, who mostly stayed in their own little spaces. Not only was Edward not making mistakes, but he wasn't slouching, in fact he looked like he could teach her charm-school cram teacher a thing or two about posture. Hawkeye was marveling at her good fortune in dance partner when Edward snickered and pulled her around by her hand so she could see Kilroy giving Mustang a piece of her mind about his careless dancing techniques.

Edward's exemplary handling of Riza on the makeshift dance floor had not gone unnoticed by Mustang. In fact it was a particularly tight and fast spin around Gracia and Fuery that was responsible for Second Lieutenant Kilroy's sore foot. In the usual way, Mustang was certainly a passable dancer, having had more occasion to appear at military balls (and at dance clubs) than most of his subordinates. Today however, Fullmetal was really getting on his nerves, not only touching Riza but having the gall to look good doing it. He shot a stony glare toward where Edward and Riza danced giggling at him, and completely ignored the protests of a thoroughly frustrated Kilroy.

Before the class could degenerate any further, Gracia told them all that this would suffice for the day, and that they could expect to have either an etiquette or a dancing lesson every morning before returning to their regular duties. She then whisked Riza and Sheska out of the room, promising to see all of the officers the following day.

-o-o-o-

The rest of the afternoon was filled with paperwork for all. Around five o'clock, just when Edward had finished signing the last paper in his pile, Mustang called Edward and Falman into his office.

"Okay, Falman, tell me what you've got on cleanup."

"Sir. Lab 23 was infiltrated at 22:30 last night and found to be deserted. Evidence indicated that the area had been broken into recently, after its original abandonment two months ago."

"And the documentation kept there?"

"All gone sir. It seems likely that it was retrieved recently, as in the other cases."

"Take Fullmetal with you, and see what you can do to repair the damage to the area," said Mustang, he continued rather nastily,."You wanted to 'rebuild' Fullmetal. Get out there and do it."

With that Edward gave a passable salute and turned to follow Falman out to the car. Apparently Mustang was cranky enough about the dancing incident to order him to do overtime. Even though it meant that he wouldn't have the opportunity to visit the library again today, Edward looked forward to doing a bit of alchemy. After all, fixing damaged property had become somewhat of a specialty of his since he'd been responsible for so much property damage over the past few years. Relieved when Falman jumped in the front seat and started up the car rather than feeling the need to lecture him on something or other like Breda always seemed to lately, Edward got in the back seat looking forward to an evening of advanced alchemy.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

A/N: I put this off for so long because there were too many things I wanted to address for one chapter! Eventually, of course, I decided to put some aside for the next chapter and that included all Winry stuff. However, I can now confidently promise Winry POV for chapter 8!

Thanks so so so much to all who reviewed, and please keep it up and enjoy!


	8. Chapter 8

Winry turned from her work designing a new wrist joint (for Edward of course, as were all of her most remarkable advances whether they made it to the place of honor in her next version of his automail or not) and scowled at the bright summer day outside her window. Despite being confronted with the charming sight of Al rolling on the grass with Tyge and Den, Winry just couldn't seem to muster up a single positive thought. She was feeling over-stressed, under-appreciated, and more than a little angry at her lot in life which seemed to have her forever pining after some no-good shrimp alchemy freak who wasn't even that great anyway.

Winry was still in Reisembol, having told Garfiel that she needed to end her apprenticeship ahead of term as she likely wouldn't be returning to Rush Valley for some time. She'd made the call the morning after Ed and Al had returned. Her extreme joy at the return of her two closest friends had made her incapable of thinking past the happy-ending ideal of living peacefully together for the rest of their days. But that was the problem with happily-ever-afters: life always kept going. Though she was very happy to be able to spend time with Al and Granny and Hoenheim, Winry was feeling a bit stifled and out of her element.

After the rush of business following Ed and Al's return, things were uncomfortably quiet on the automail side of the business. Winry felt like she could use the challenge of work in Rush Valley, maybe moving beyond just the mechanical side of things to follow in her grandmother's footsteps as both engineer and surgeon. If she kept sitting here at her workbench with nothing to do, she was just going to end up designing yet another complete automail limb for Edward, and now that he only needed an arm, that limited the scope of her invention considerably. Stupid Edward, losing her creation in some other dimension. It _was_ wonderful to have seen his happy face as he practiced running about on his two flesh and bone legs after arriving back in Reisembol though. It was not much of a leap from there for Winry to return to the train of thought that she had been trying to escape. It was more like a loop than a train. It went: hugging Ed desperately at the train station, holding hands with Ed under the blossoming cherry tree, sitting with Ed by the moonlit river, burying her face in his shoulder when he first came home to her...Oh drat, this really needed to stop!

Though her thoughts often ran to Edward as a matter of course, Winry had had an especially difficult time herding her thoughts away from the golden-eyed idiot on that particular day. Right after breakfast that morning Winry's long-time friend-by-default Nelly had come by from down in the Valley, all giggles, and practically swooned when she pulled out the newspaper she had brought with her. It was last week's edition of the Amestrian Herald with Ed's picture huge on the front page, the headline under it proclaiming, "Fullmetal Alchemist Returns to Central City."

"Can you believe it Winry? Ed looks so grown-up! And so _good_!" Nelly's high-pitched voice was already giving Winry a headache, and she'd only been subjected to it for three minutes so far.

"Thanks for reminding me," Winry muttered to the paper. She'd spent too much of her time these past days allowing herself to wonder what it would have been like if Edward hadn't had to return to the military in Central. He had been doing much better by the time he left, almost back to normal. Sure, he'd been cranky, but he'd been through an incredibly traumatic experience, and Winry truly believed that being home with the people who cared most for him had been helping him heal. He'd been learning about Xingian alchemy, and had even fixed her tree. More miraculous even than that feat was the fact that he had allowed her to hold his hand the night the messenger came from Central. When she'd said goodbye to him at the station even though he grumbled about having to give her a hug he held her more tightly and for longer than usual. If he'd stayed...well, Winry refused to spend her time thinking about what other titillating situations might have come about. At least while she had a guest.

She snapped back to reality as Nelly waved the paper around in her face.

"So is it true, Winry? Was Ed staying here with you the whole time he was gone from Central? Did he tell you about the battle there? Everyone in the village keeps talking about the things he's done. I had no idea Edward Elric was so important. I mean, we all knew he was the Fullmetal Alchemist, blah blah, but just look at him on the front page!"

Nelly once again waved about the paper she was clutching just in time for it to smack Pinako in the face as she walked into the kitchen.

"Sorry Granny!" Nelly said apologetically.

"It's all right, but what've you got there?" Pinako adjusted her glasses and took a look at the paper. Ed's pained face stared up at her above the caption, "Amestrian Hero Edward Elric Vows to Rebuild Central City."

"Doesn't Ed just look amazing?" gushed Nelly, visions of grand city life flashing through her head.

Pinako snorted.

"Child looks just like he does before we reattach the nerves on his automail! Lord, I've never seen a picture of Ed with such an uncomfortable expression."

Winry looked up at her grandmother gratefully and smiled her first genuine smile since Nelly had arrived. It was true, Ed looked like he'd rather have his other arm cut off than stand there posing one more instant, but seeing his face on a newspaper and knowing that people across the nation would be seeing the same thing--and without knowing just what that expression really connoted--was causing a more than unpleasant sensation in Winry's stomach. Though Edward had never really been more than a friend to her, he had been her best friend, and she had been one of his only friends. As much as she didn't want to think such selfish thoughts, Winry could admit to herself that she had always considered Edward to be _hers_. More important to her than to everyone else, except Al of course. She felt awkward thinking about Ed being important to others. It would take some getting used to, but she'd better get started, as things just seemed to be getting further and further out of control.

-o-o-o-

Sergent Terry Dunston felt a bit uncomfortable accompanying Jean Havoc to Reisembol. On the one hand, Havoc seemed to be doing fine without assistance aside from needing someone to fetch a ramp so that he could get on and off the train, and it was always a bit awkward to be ordered to help someone who didn't really want or need your help. Aside from all of that, Dunston couldn't help but feel that his mission was not exactly official business. Sure, Havoc had been a Second Lieutenant before losing the use of his legs in the line of duty, but it had been months since he had been officially discharged. His presence here was clearly a favor to the Major General. Dunston hadn't actually been present when the Fullmetal Alchemist had met with Havoc and had asked to check something out. Kilroy had been putting something on the Major General's desk as Lt. Col. Elric knelt in front of Havoc's wheelchair and placed his hands on Havoc's chest. She said one minute there was nothing, the next minute there was an eerie breeze in the room and beads of light racing through the Lt. Col. and into Havoc.

He arose with an expression that seemed to be trying to put a damper on his own hopefulness and not raise expectations, but he turned to the Major General and asked that Havoc be escorted to Reisembol as soon as possible to be examined by his father. This had been met with surprise by everyone around the office, as it was no secret that Fullmetal was not on very good terms with his father. If anything, this gave Havoc and the others more hope than they would otherwise have had that Van Hoenheim could do something, as Edward would not be likely to involve him unless he really expected success.

Dunston alighted from the train, calling over the conductor to ask if he had a ramp for a wheelchair. He half expected such a tiny station serving such a tiny town not to have one, but the conductor hurried over and set it up.

"Coming to see the Rockbells for automail sir?" inquired the conductor curiously. Generally military personnel only came to Reisembol when the Fullmetal Alchemist was around, but he was long gone, and only one of the men before him was in uniform.

"Well," said Havoc carefully, "we need to get to the Rockbell house. Is it within walking distance?"

The conductor assured him that there would be no need to worry, he would arrange for a car to pick them up presently. In actuality, the car was an old beat-up truck driven by a farm boy without a license, but with a great interest in the tip the gentlemen would likely give him for his trouble. They ended up maneuvering Havoc into the truck bed, chair and all, and made it to the Rockbell home with no incident.

Al was playing in the yard when the truck containing his former and unremembered comrade in arms pulled up, so he ran up the steps to the house yelling for Granny. Havoc had just caught sight of him and heard the familiar voice coming from him before Dunston and the driver had come around to take the chair out.

"Excuse me," said Havoc politely to the driver, "but, that boy just now--do you know his name?"

The driver leaned forward, happy enough for the chance to tell his personal take on this popular topic to this newcomer.

"Well sir, I don't know that you'll believe me, but that little boy's called Alphonse Elric, and everyone round these parts keeps saying he must be a cousin or something that just happens to have the same name as the younger Elric boy. You know, the Fullmetal Alchemist's brother who used to go about in that suit of armor. But no one can quite pin down where the older Alphonse Elric is. Fishy that by itself, but--and this is the honest truth sir--I was in school same year as Al Elric down in the valley, and I swear to you that that is the _same boy_ I used to play with after school. Not a cousin, not even another brother. He's _exactly the same_ after five years--"

This fascinating tale was cut short by the arrival of Pinako at the storyteller's elbow. With a quick exclamation of surprise and a quick tip of his hat to the old lady, the farm lad was off. He knew it wasn't worth the risk to get caught telling tales by Pinako Rockbell. It would mean the tongue-lashing of a lifetime, and he wasn't up for that willingly.

"Well you must be Mr. Havoc," said Pinako kindly. "We actually got a phone call from Ed this morning--not every day that happens I can tell you--saying you' be arriving on the 1 o'clock train from Central. I'm pleased to meet any friend of the boys."

She turned to Dunston, and asked him if he would please go inside and get her granddaughter.

"I'm sure you've figured out that it was Al who you saw when you pulled up just now, but I'm not sure whether or not you realize that since he's been returned to his body at the time of the accident, he retains no memories of the time his soul was confined to the suit of armor. Does your companion know the story?"

"He's been made aware of the situation, and can be trusted with the truth. There's no reason to worry he'll say anything inappropriate. It's great to meet you ma'am," Havoc said, catching sight of Winry as she left the house and came towards him. He couldn't help but think to himself that the bratty Fullmetal must have done something right in a past life to catch the eye of a girl like that. Dressed simply in a knee-length skirt and sweater, the mechanic exuded a feeling of friendliness that was not tinged with any of the pity that Havoc was accustomed to seeing from his wheelchair. Of course, her profession made her particularly comfortable around people with disabilities.

"Mr. Havoc, I'm so glad to see you again," said Winry with a genuine smile. "Edward tells me you're here to see his father. Hoenheim is with another patient at the moment or he'd be out to greet you. Too bad it's a nervous system issue, otherwise we could fit you out very well with some automail legs. Now that Ed's got his real one back I have no one to test out all my ideas on..."

The girl's smile had faded a bit by the end of this statement, but she hurriedly helped her grandmother show Havoc around to the side ramp up to the Rockbell's front porch. Once they got him settled in one of the downstairs rooms that they kept open for patients, Winry excused herself to go see if Hoenheim was finished with his patient. Dunston took his leave and went to check into the inn where he would be staying until a timetable was developed for Havoc's recovery. This left Havoc alone with the elder Rockbell woman whose nonchalance was a little unnerving. She picked up a clipboard from a basket hanging on the door and made some kind of notation. She then looked blearily up at him.

"Make yourself at home," said Pinako, leaving Havoc to his own devices as she wandered off smoking that long thin pipe of hers.

Havoc manuevered his chair around the small room, but quickly decided that it was too similar to many hospital and clinic rooms that he'd been in in the past year. Though it was cheerful enough, Havoc was much more interested in checking out the spaces that the Elric brothers had called home for the past five years. The living room that he'd first encountered on leaving his room was comfortable, but fairly generic since it was used as a waiting room for the Rockbell's automail patients.

Havoc paused in a hallway leading to what he guessed was the kitchen. On the wall was a bulletin board with pictures tacked up on it. Havoc couldn't help but take it in with great interest. Parents, children, friends smiled up at him from their paper representations. Again and again he saw child-sized Ed, Al, Winry, playing ball, picking berries, passed out in front of the fire. He saw a much younger Pinako running after a little boy with Winry's eyes and Winry curled up on a bale of hay between two smiling people he assumed to be her parents. Ed and Al with a beautiful brown-haired woman and a wall of a man with golden hair and spectacles. He wheeled his chair as close as he could get, taking in the legend of a man whose exploits were so heavily classified that he still hadn't pried the entire story from his former colleagues in Mustang's coterie. A brief cough interrupted his scrutiny, and Havoc started, then backed up in his chair, looking up into a pair of bespectacled golden eyes. The man standing before Havoc would have been intimidating but for his kindly demeanor. Despite being well over six feet tall and quite broad across the shoulders, the man's stance was unassuming and the quiet amusement that showed on his face did not seem ill-intentioned.

"It must be strange to see pictures of my sons before you knew them. They were such...normal children."

Havoc snorted a bit before he could stop himself. "It's hard to imagine either of those two as _normal_," he said, "Well, perhaps Alphonse without the armor and if he wasn't constantly being forced to clean up after his brother's schemes."

Hoenheim's smile turned a bit wry as his eyes also roved across the bulletin board. "I won't say they were always the happiest or best-behaved of boys, but their problems were much more limited in scope than those they were subjected to later."

The tall man shifted, turning to fully face Havoc, and the subject seemed closed.

"You must be Jean Havoc--I've heard quite a bit about you from Winry, and I received a rather detailed account of your injury from my elder son. I'm Van Hoenheim, and I'm pleased to make your acquaintance." Hoenheim bowed a bit, and Havoc found himself awkwardly returning the gesture from his chair.

Without waiting for a response, Hoenheim turned to lead the way back through the house to the examination rooms near where Havoc had left his belongings.

-o-o-o-

When Winry heard Van Hoenheim leave Havoc in the living room, she wiped her greasy hands on a rag and poked her head out of her workshop. Havoc was still in his chair, reading a newspaper.

"What's the verdict?" she asked, walking over to plunk down on the couch beside him.

"Well, Hoenheim was pretty noncommittal after he examined me, but he said that we'd get started on treatment tomorrow. He also gave me about a zillion foods to avoid, as if I'm going to have a lot of choice about what I eat in the next few days," Havoc said with a shrug.

"Don't worry about that. Granny and I are getting used to cooking for the restricted diets that Hoenheim recommends. We'll fix you up," she said.

Winry ducked her head a bit to get a look at what Havoc was reading.

"Whatcha got there?"

He moved it toward her so she could more easily read. It appeared to be a daily paper of the sort that often tended more toward speculation than fact with Ed's face on the cover, showing what might by some be construed as a serious gaze, but which to those who knew better meant that he was about five seconds away from getting seriously pissed off. The headline read: "Fullmetal Alchemist to Escort Princess Yelena of Drachma to State Ball." Winry took one look at that and stood up, feeling shocked and sick.

Havoc realized what she was reacting to, and felt sheepish for so readily offering her the paper.

"Aw, Miss Winry, don't put too much faith in anything a paper of this caliber has to say..."

"Is that what they called Ed back to Central for? To go to balls with princesses?" She moved away to look out of the window into the yard where her cherry tree was standing. Winry knew that Ed would just be following orders, but a ball? It was like pulling teeth to get him to do the simple country dances at the shearing festival.

"I hate to think of a cute girl like you sitting about worrying over that shrimpy idiot. If you were just a year or two older I'd ask you out myself, but I really think you've got nothing to worry about so far as Fullmetal goes. I'm sure Mustang's arranged the whole thing. I'd be highly surprised if Ed has ever met this 'Princess Yelena'--otherwise she probably wouldn't have agreed to go with him. It's really just politics, and I'm sure you know how much he hates that."

Winry smiled a bit at that. It was a little far-fetched, from the perspective of one who truly knew Edward Elric, to imagine him thriving as a diplomat. Ed hated stuffy things like etiquette and state functions. He could hardly pass a license renewal without starting a brawl, having to act polite and proper for a whole evening was probably beyond him. Suddenly, Winry felt a little bit of sympathy for the princess, who was likely to get scowled at for an entire evening, unless they let Ed drink, in which case he would probably talk her ear off about the most boring and obsolete alchemical theories in existence.


End file.
